


Tangled Paths, Wild Hearts

by GoatVibesOnly



Series: Moth Rising 'verse [3]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: (It all happened in the past though; no current abuse except for its lingering effects on the MC), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-typical language, Character Development, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kittypets (Warriors), World Exploration, Worldbuilding, loners, rogues - Freeform, wholesome friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatVibesOnly/pseuds/GoatVibesOnly
Summary: A young mother runs away from ShadowClan and her old life. Struggling to fit in, she wanders the earth, searching for a place she can call home. (Despite being a part of a series, this work was meant to exist as a standalone within the larger canon of the series.)
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Character/Original Character
Series: Moth Rising 'verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882363
Comments: 28
Kudos: 21





	1. and from it she fled

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for checking out my newest story! This is an exploration piece of one of the side characters in my Moth Rising story. However, it's written to work on its own and you don't need any knowledge of MR to understand what's going on.
> 
> As a note, this story largely takes place outside of the Clan territory and thus has very few Clan-specific plot elements or characters, as it aims to flesh out the vast world beyond the Clans. There is a plot, but it mainly serves as a backdrop to explore different styles of catlife. So, if you're looking for big Clan battles, prophecy drama, and forbidden relationships, I wish you luck but you should look elsewhere. But if you're looking for musings on the beliefs and values of rogues, loners, kittypets, then you've come to the right place!

> _Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father_  
>  _Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers_  
>  _Leave all your love and your longing behind_  
>  _You can't carry it with you if you want to survive_
> 
> -Dog Days are Over, Florence + the Machine

* * *

The outside night air was cool and crisp, but inside the den was as warm and cozy as ever. Even though the other queen, Beechtail, had moved back to the warriors’ den now that her kits - Specklepaw, Troutpaw, and Pricklepaw - had become apprentices, she and her kits had enough body heat to keep the nursery warm.

She wrapped her ginger tail around her three kits as they snuggled close. She pressed her nose to their foreheads, a purring rumbling from her chest as she breathed in their sweet kit-scent. Two ginger mollies and a silver tabby tom. They were already a few moons old, and weaned off of her milk; it wasn’t long before they would leave the nursery forever and start their training to become warriors. She held them close, knowing these precious moments were fleeting and limited.

As she nuzzled the last one, he stirred and blinked at her with wide, yellow eyes.

“You’re still awake, Smokekit?” she asked, her meow warm.

He stretched out his front paws – so large, would he ever grow into them? – and kneaded them into her side. He shoved his sisters out of the way to crawl closer to her. “Can you tell me a story?”

As he moved closer, his movements woke his sisters. The long-furred ginger molly with a white muzzle and flash on her chest headbutted her brother grumpily. “You woke me up.” Beside her, her short-furred sister blinked open dark yellow eyes, staring in confusion.

“Mom’s gonna tell us a story,” the silver tom announced.

“Smokekit, the elders entertained you and your sisters with stories all afternoon. Or are you telling me I didn’t hear Russetnose tell you the story of the fierce Tigerstar and how he died twice, trying to take over the Clans both in life and in death?” She pulled Smokekit close with her paw and pressed her face into his soft belly fur.

He squealed and pulled away, whiskers twitching indignantly. “Those were the stories Mothkit and Fernkit wanted. _I_ wanted a story about Mothwing, the medicine cat who didn’t believe in StarClan!”

“That’s a dumb story,” Fernkit protested, leaning over to glare at her brother. Squished in between them, their sister Mothkit scowled but didn’t protest. “What kind of medicine cat doesn’t believe in StarClan? Willowgaze made her up.”

“Oh yeah? Like Tigerstar losing all nine of his lives at the paws of a rogue the size of a kitten is any more true? Or how he trained living cats in the Dark Forest after he died? Everyone knows dead cats can only talk to medicine cats and leaders,” taunted Smokekit.

Fernkit stuck her tongue out, and Smokekit's eyes glinted playfully as he crouched down, wriggling his tail as he prepared to pounce. Still caught between them, Mothkit lay down and threw her paw over her eyes, resigning herself to losing more sleep.

Suddenly all-too-aware of the delicate calm in the nursery and how close it was to breaking, their mother shifted her body and pushed her front paw in between her kits, nudging them apart. “Kits, please. You can have more stories tomorrow.”

“You promise?” Smokekit demanded, silvery fur bushed out.

She craned her neck to lick her tongue down his cheek, smoothing down his fluffed-up fur. “I promise.”

“Okay.” He settled down again, and after a heartbeat, so did his sisters, all of the adrenaline from mere heartbeats ago suddenly drained into the air like mist in sunlight. “I love you, Mom,” he whispered, tucking his tail over his nose.

Her heart swelled to bursting as she gazed at her kits. “I love you, too.”

* * *

As the ginger molly pushed through underbrush, flew over fields, and even dashed across twoleg thunderpaths, only one thought echoed through her mind: _I have to keep going. I need to go farther._ Her paws had stopped aching long ago; now they were numb from their constant beating against the hard ground underpaw.

She had run all night, and now it was past sunhigh. But she didn’t dare stop. He would find her if she stopped.

Her surroundings blurred around her; where was she, anyways? The large, square blocks of twoleg houses had appeared out of nowhere, and with a jolt she realized that the ground underpaw was not the rippled, lumpy, soft loam of forest but the harsh, flat line of a thunderpath.

How long had she been running alongside it? Thankfully, this thunderpath was quiet, and she hadn’t seen a monster going in either direction since she had gotten on – whenever that was, because she couldn’t remember.

She slowed just enough to steer off of the thunderpath and onto a small strip of grass. The grass was separated by the thunderpath on one side and a smaller yet equally flat strip of the same hard material on the other. As she darted past the ugly, lanky form of a twoleg, she grunted in surprise. A smaller thunderpath for twologs? She shook her head. What will they think of next?

She shook her head again, this time to clear it. Even though her full out sprint had slowed to a brisk lope, her surroundings looked just as blurry. Were the twoleg dens melting?

The ground pitched beneath her paws, and she realized the problem wasn’t the twoleg dens, but herself. She had been running for so long without stopping to breathe or drink water.

She stumbled. She couldn’t stay out in the open. If she was going to die, she wouldn’t be subjected to the poking and prodding of twolegs. She dragged herself under a too-perfectly-shaped bush before her legs collapsed and she fell to her side. She gazed at the branches above her blearily; did twolegs trim bushes now? what was next? Creating fires _on purpose_?

Her vision sparked white, and she didn’t have to look at the horribly shaped bushes any longer. _Thank the stars_ , she thought, thoughts fuzzy.

She felt a spark of victory in her chest. She may be dying, yes. But she was dying on her own terms. Not his, not the Clans’, not anycat else’s. _Hers_.

She reveled in this with a quiet, fierce pride until a fuzzy outline of a cat appeared. White still filled her vision, and she squinted. Was this a StarClan cat, come to take her to StarClan? Did they have power still, so far away from the Clans?

The catlike shape gasped and disappeared. She wondered vaguely where if she had dreamed it up as some sort of dying mirage to bring her comfort. But then it appeared again, and she felt something trickle into her mouth.

She gagged, but the catlike shape meowed something, clearly distressed. When she felt the trickle down her throat again, she swallowed, and found with relief that the small amount of water shocked her system and filled her with the fierce conviction to keep living.

Live to spite him. Live to spite every cat.

She opened her mouth, trying to ask for more, but her throat was too parched and nothing came out. Fortunately, the catlike shape moved closer, and more water tipped into her mouth.

After several more trickles of water, she coughed, and rolled onto her paws, and sat up. She blinked, and the white spots covering her vision faded away.

A round tortoiseshell cat gasped and sat up straighter. Half of their face was a striking ginger, and the other half a stark, clean white, with a sprinkling of dark brown spots across their face and down their gray back and sides. As she locked her green eyes on them, their own green eyes stretched wide. “Oh, goodness! You’re alive! Well, I’ll be! I’ve never seen a cat so close to death before!”

“What?” she croaked, her throat still hoarse.

“I said, I’ve never seen a cat so close to death before!” They stepped forward, nose twitching. Their mew sounded strange to her, so unlike the cats she grew up with around the lake. Their nonverbal cues were still the same – the same flick of the ears, the same twitch of the whiskers – but their mew was bizarre. It sounded like they were purposely lilting their meow. Was it a regional accent? Did all kittypets sound like this? Was she going mad? 

The kittypet kept on talking. They seemed to like doing that. “You’re not from around here, are you? Well, you picked the right yard to almost die in! My housefolk had just let me out for my evening constitutional when I smelled something strange. I went to investigate, and there you were! Thankfully, my water bowl was mostly full,” they swept their tail over a shiny, hard disk with a round indentation in the middle, half-filled with water, “so I dragged it over here and dripped it into your mouth! I wasn’t sure it would work, but it did!”

She shook her head. “Yeah. It did.”

The tortoiseshell blinked, and their gaze softened. “I’m Maudlin. What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“Wildstep.” As she spoke, she sat up straighter. “I’m from… or I was from… it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s so far away.”

“I'll say, if the way your pawpads look are any indication.”

She glanced at her paws, surprised to see that her once pink-and-brown pawpads, kept soft and delicate from the soft pine needles that carpeted ShadowClan’s floor, were red and bloody. She set her paw down, bracing herself so she didn’t wince as her raw skin scraped against the dirt.

Maudlin nodded. “You said your name is Wildstep, huh? That’s a strange name.”

Wildstep frowned. She had turned her back on the Clans and everything they stood for, but her name had been given to her by ShadowClan's leader, Berrystar. She remembered her naming ceremony like it had happened yesterday: exhausted but glowing with pride, after she had stayed up all night scouring the forest, searching for Briarstreak’s kits, Beechkit and Bravekit, after they had snuck out of camp and gotten lost. She had come home carrying the mewling Beechtail with her head held high, Bravekit trailing behind. Berrystar had been so impressed she had given her a warrior name right then, not even bothering to wait for the usual warrior assessment. She had earned it, fair and square.

Beechtail and Bravefeather had long since earned their own warrior names. He was even mentoring one of Beechtail’s kits. She wondered if he would look for her as frantically as she had for Beechtail. 

After realizing she wasn't going to respond, Maudlin rose to their paws. “We should take you to my housefolk! They’ll patch you up! Maybe you can live with me afterwards! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Wildstep flicked her ear, suddenly weary. “What are housefolk?”

Maudlin’s eyes stretched wide. “You don’t know housefolk? You know, the tall hairless creatures? You can’t go anywhere without seeing them. I live in their house.” They motioned behind them to the large, blocky den.

“You mean a twoleg?” Wildstep shook her head. “No way. I’m not letting those creatures get anywhere near me. I’m not a stupid kittypet.”

Maudlin stepped back. Wildstep clamped her jaw shut when she realized what she had just said.

"There’s no need to be so rude, ma’am." The tortoisheshell flattened their ears. “Well, if you won't see my householk, at least let me get you something to eat.”

Her stomach rumbled, and Wildstep nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Maudlin whisked their tail as they turned around, and they bounded across the grass and out of sight.

After they disappeared, Wildstep forced herself to check over her body. She chose to believe this strange kittypet didn’t want to hurt her and was telling the truth when they said they would get her something to eat. She may as well make herself presentable while she waited.

She ran her tongue down her sides, smoothing off layers of dirt and grime. She nibbled at rocks and grit stuck in between her toes, and swiped her paws over her ears. Her body still ached with every movement, and she felt even more exhausted after she was done, if that was possible, but at least she was recognizable as herself again.

By the time she finished, Maudlin stuck their head underneath the bush again, carrying something in their mouth that made Wildstep’s mouth water. “You clean up nicely!” they mewed as they dropped the food at their feet. “I never would’ve guessed you were a ginger underneath all that muck, and I certainly never would have guessed that you had a white belly or paws!” They laughed, as if they had made some outrageous comment.

“Thanks,” she meowed dryly.

Maudlin rolled the tantalizing-smelling food towards her. It was round and long, and smelled like nothing she had ever smelled before. A soft, warm heat emanated off of it. “What is this?”

“Meat,” Maudlin answered. “As the days get longer and warmer, my housefolk like to spend time outside and cook food on these strange boxes. Cooking food is heating it up with fire,” they explained, when Wildstep stared at them without comprehension. “It’s the only way housefolk know how to eat meat. They’re silly like that, aren’t they? And when the nights are longest, if the night is clear, after they're done cooking their food they’ll shoot brightly colored stars up into the sky.”

“They can’t shoot stars,” Wildstep protested.

Maudlin shrugged. “They do. Come on, eat. You’ll feel better.”

Wildstep crouched down and nudged the food with her nose. She opened her mouth to take a bite, and before she knew it she had inhaled the entire thing.

“Hungry, aren’t you?” Maudlin laughed. “My housefolk will be on alert now that I’ve stolen one, but if we wait until they’re done eating, I can sneak off with their leftovers. Rest a while, and I’ll bring more.”

“I can’t stop now,” she protested, but her eyelids sagged. She told her body to get up, but against her will she found herself slowly reclining back onto the ground. “I have to keep going.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to get to wherever you’re going,” Maudlin promised. “But later.”

She slept for the rest of the day, cloaked in strange, tense dreams shot through with fear and anxiety. By the time she woke up, the sky was darkening a deep, heavy violet. She wondered if the dreams were a bad omen sent by StarClan. Could they see her, even now, so far away from ShadowClan? Would they send him in her direction? If they were watching, they had to know she didn’t want to be found. Did that matter to them? Or was all that mattered losing one of their own?

Or maybe they were watching, but they didn’t care. Or maybe they weren’t watching at all.

The air was heavy and wet, and carried a dampness that could only mean it would rain soon. Rain was good. Rain would cover her tracks and make it harder for him to track her down.

The subtle thud of paws on grass alerted her to Maudlin’s presence. The tortoisheshell dropped another slab of meat, this one flat and round, at her paws, which she was more than happy to gobble down. Nothing would beat the taste of freshly-killed rabbit, but she was so hungry that even this burnt meat (seriously: cooked meat? Who does that?) tasted good to her parched tongue.

Rain started to speckle the earth, and Maudlin crawled underneath the bush. They pushed up against Wildstep, their warm, solid presence comforting. “I’m sorry to say there won’t be any colored stars tonight,” Maudlin meowed, and Wildstep was surprised to hear that they sounded genuinely sad. “The rain will stop them.”

Wildstep shook her head. “Twolegs are always up to no good.”

“My housefolk have always taken good care of me,” they answered, but there was no bite to their meow. “They would help you, if you would let them.”

“A warrior can take care of herself.”

“A warrior?” Maudlin repeated. “Is that what you are?”

Wildstep tucked her paws underneath her, and her stomach twisted. She had already said too much. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you talk like that?”

“Talk like what?” Maudlin twitched their whiskers in amusement.

“Strangely. Like you’re trying to talk weird. Do all kittypets do that?”

They laughed. “No, just me, I’m afraid. I used to live somewhere very far away from here. All of the cats talked like this where I came from. One day my housefolk put me in a monster for many hours, and when they let me out, here we were! I’ve lived here ever since.”

“That must be sad, forced away from your family like that.”

“You’re not with your family now, either.” Maudlin shrugged. “Cats don’t typically live with their family all their lives. It was sad that I didn’t get to say goodbye, but it’s fine. I have plenty of friends here now. Including you!”

Wildstep ignored their pointed comment and settled down, resting her chin on her white paws.

Maudlin pressed against her and nestled their chin on her spine. Wildstep’s fur, naturally spiky, clumped up right in front of the tortoisheshell’s nose, and their breath tickled. “Come on,” Maudlin prompted, eyes twinkling with good nature. “I’ve told you all about my story. Now you tell me yours!”

“I…” Wildstep hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Maudlin about herself. The less she told about herself, the more forgettable she was. If she told this kittypet her entire life story, there was no chance that they wouldn’t be able to tell him all about her.

But at the same time, they had been kind to her, though they didn’t have to. A story was as good a price as any. Perhaps she should be thankful they hadn’t asked for more. “What do you want to know?”

“Where do you come from, and why do you want to go so far away?” the question came so quickly that it was clear it had been burning at the tortoiseshell all day.

Wildstep cleared her throat. “The first part is easy. I was born by a lake, a day’s travel from here. maybe two, if you don’t run the whole way. Around the lake live five Clans, each lead by a cat. We live by a code, commanding us to take care of our youngest and oldest, and we have a medicine cat, who heals us when we are sick and speaks to our warrior ancestors for guidance. When times are good, we share resources and gossip freely. When they aren’t…” She trailed off. “The five Clans are called SkyClan, ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan. That’s where I come from. We lived in a pine forest and hunted at night, and could blend into the shadows until we were little more than shadows ourselves.”

Maudlin’s eyes grew round, and they glittered as their imagination clearly ran wild. Their tail curled tight, and they wriggled with anticipation. “What happened next? What could possibly make want to you leave? Or did they kick you out?”

Wildstep’s heart panged as she stared into those innocent, wide eyes. Smokekit used to look at her like that when she spun stories about the legends of the Clans. They were just that, legends, but he wanted so badly for them to be true. Just like then, she’d tell a half-lie. Maudlin would sleep easier at night not knowing the full truth. “No. I chose to leave. I needed to see what lay beyond the lake. I had to take matters into my own paws." She knew she was risking too much, but now that she wasn't focused on running, her thoughts were full of them, and she couldn't help but add, "Leaving my kits behind was the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make. But it was the right choice.” She hoped.

“You left your kits!” Maudlin gasped. “I could never do that.”

She flattened her ears and her fur bristled, despite her best attempts to lay it flat. “You left your friends and family, too,” she meowed flatly.

“Yes, but kits!” Maudlin echoed. “Imagine that! You could have brought them with you and you could have all had adventures together! But now here you are, exploring the world, and your kits will never know what lives beyond the lake.”

Wildstep growled.

They shook their head. “Never mind all that, then. We should go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning. I need to sleep inside, or my housefolk will worry about me. But don’t leave this bush! Tomorrow we can do some exploring of our own. There’s plenty of fun to be had around here, you’ll see. I can introduce you to Mama! You’d like Mama. She’s a crankly old molly, but she’s jolly when she’s in a good mood.”

“That sounds like fun.” Wildstep braced herself as she told her second lie of the night: “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Maudlin pressed their nose to Wildstep’s and bounded back to their twoleg den, squeezing inside a small hole in the wall of the den and disappearing from sight. Wildstep sighed and closed her eyes.

She dozed fitfully, awoken once or twice by the loud, rolling thunderstorm overhead, but remained mostly dry, if a bit cold, throughout the night. She crawled out of the bush in the early dawn, as the rain lightened from a downpour to a light sprinkle. She wished there was more she could do to repay Maudlin, and her stomach twisted when she thought of how crushed the kittypet would be to wake up and find her gone. They had been rude, but at least they had been kind, freely offering food, water, and shelter.

She had to get as far away from Maudlin as possible. If he came looking for her, Maudlin couldn’t tell him where she had gone.

Her paws ached with bruises as she padded out of the lawn and back onto the small monsterpath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking it out, and I'll post more soon - probably around once a week. This will probably end up at 6 or 7 chapters based on my current outline, though of course it's all liable to change. I will include proper credits when I get there, but I will be incorporating some concepts from an old ff.net fic that I fell in love with then I first found the world of Warriors fanfic back in 2009. So be on the lookout for that! :P Keeping in time with the 2009 vibes, I hope to include song lyrics that inspired my writing at the beginning of every chapter. Let's see if I can keep that up!
> 
> As always, thanks to my pal Shay (@FloatingVampireJesus) for looking this over!
> 
> Enjoy!!


	2. life's uncertain and sometimes it's strange

> _Winter comes racing 'round, something 'bout the air_
> 
> _The fire is on and the chimney smoke is tangled in my hair_
> 
> _Crazy how much my life has changed in just a year_
> 
> _There's people I've met, people I've left_
> 
> _And some that didn't make it here..._
> 
> _My life's uncertain and sometimes it's strange_
> 
> _But one thing I've learned is it won't stay the same_
> 
> _Even in the darkness, I'll be okay_
> 
> _The sun will come up, the seasons will change_
> 
> \- The Sun Will Come Up, The Seasons Will Change, Nina Nesbitt

* * *

It wasn’t long before she lost track of time. She moved all night, and during the day she slept, tucked away in whatever small corner or crevice she could find. She traveled through more twolegplaces than she could count, and more forests and fields than she could imagine.

She didn’t follow any particular path. one time she wandered through a certain patch of woods for at least a quarter moon, only to end up exiting it right where she had entered.

That was fine. The more aimlessly she wandered, the harder she would be to track.

Her body had long since adapted to a life on the move. She no longer woke up in pain, and her paws, once pampered from a life spent treading on soft pine needles, grew rough and calloused. She didn’t sprint at full speed anymore, but she could keep a steady lope for most of the day, if the weather was good and the wind was at her back.

She wandered through twolegplace and forest alike. She learned that there were many different types of twolegplace. Some of them, like the one where Maudlin had lived, were spacious, with large expanses of grass and bushes in between every twoleg den. Some were so large her head hurt to try and comprehend their size. Twoleg dens the size of mountains stretched into the sky, packed together like mice in a nest.

She had learned many of the strange words kittypets and loners alike used for twoleg contraptions. At first, she had resisted, but eventually she had to admit that these words allowed her to distinguish between the sheer impossible number of things she was seeing. Twolegs had made too many things, she decided. But at least she knew what to call their abominable number of things.

She had learned that these large twolegplaces were called “cities”. They were loud, and the rumbling of monsters and twolegs alike make her ears hurt. The dirty water littering the streets made her heart ache for quiet, calm forests. But in the forests, she couldn’t help but feel exposed. At least she knew he would hate traveling into a city just as much as her, and the chaos made her feel anonymous. Hidden.

Every now and then, she ran into other cats. Many were friendly, and offered to share their meal or a even a place to sleep in return for news from where she had come from. Wanderers were just another part of life for these cats, and in fact their unexpected visits were often celebrated and anticipated with bated breath. She had run into a few individuals or small bands of cats who seemed to begrudge her presence on their turf, and politely yet firmly resisted her attempts to socialize. Still, they never stopped her from moving through their territory and continuing on her way. 

(She wondered if this was why the rogues and loners who skirted the edges of the Clans' territories acted so harshly. Imagine stumbling onto a whole society of cats and expecting to be welcomed with open paws, only to be insulted and attacked with sharpened claws and fangs? She never asked if the strangers she met on her travels knew of the Clans. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of reputation they had. Surely nothing nice.)

Many asked after other cats. As it turned out, they had friends in other places – kittypets whose twolegs had moved them away, loners who had wanted to explore the world, families who had left to chase down rumors of a meadow where their kits could grow up without interference from twolegs, or dogs, or hunger.

It was depressing to know how many cats had loved ones they may never hear from again. But in its own small way, it was comforting to know she wasn’t the only cat who had left her family and her entire world behind.

She couldn’t promise that she would find her hosts’ friends, but she gathered messages and news both good and bad alike, with the promise to deliver it if she came across its recipient in her wandering. More than once she had been able to successfully pass a message along. Every time, the recipients had welcomed her into their homes with open paws, insisting she share their meal in thanks. It was never much – old twoleg food scrounged out of their rotpiles, a mouse if she was lucky – but she couldn’t put a price on company and conversation.

Today, wandering underneath a barren gray sky, she couldn’t help but dream of those meager pickings and shambled dens forged out of the things even twolegs couldn’t find a use for. They were as cozy as a nursery compared to this flat wind-blown pasture. A crisp wind cut through her fur and made her shiver. The grass was brittle under her paws, and across the field she could smell rows and rows of twoleg plants, wilting and browning in the cold. Leaf-fall was well on its way.

Look on the bright side: at least her orange coat blended in among the dried and brittle grass.

Halfway across the field, a strange, blocky structure caught her eye. She raised her head, sniffing. She recognized the warm scent of straw and the unpainted, wooden walls as a twoleg structure known as a barn. She had stayed in one before and had been delighted to find it overflowing with mice and warm straw, practically begging to be made into a nest. Her mouth watered as she loped forward, eager to fill her empty belly with warm, freshly killed prey instead of twoleg rotfood.

As she squeezed through the mostly closed door, she strained her nose and ears. Inside, the barn was dark, except for where the cloudy, fading light peaked in through the doors and a crack in the ceiling.

Instantly, she was overwhelmed with the smell of mouse and the scurrying of tiny paws. But the scent of something else, too. She braced her paws as she called out, “Hello? Is anycat here?”

“Me,” a raspy meow called out.

She tilted her head back in the direction of the meow and found a shifting shape in the darkness. It leapt towards her and landed lightly on the ground on four nimble cat feet. He was a burly gray tomcat, with darker gray spots on his back and dark legs. The white patch covering his neck snaked up and covered most of his face. He glared at her with a fierce conviction.

She bowed her head towards the tom. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are. And speak up, won’t you?” the gruff tom responded. He meowed rather loudly.

“Why? Are you deaf?” The cat glared, and she realized that his blue eyes were cloudy and sightless. “Oh.”

“Not quite blind yet. But getting there,” the tomcat rumbled. “Which is why you need to speak up. I can’t see as well as I used to.” Cats speak using both verbal and nonverbal cues. This was an extra challenge for cats who couldn’t see or hear, as it became that much harder to understand others.

She cleared her throat, and made sure to meow loudly as she responded, “My name is Wildstep. I’m a wanderer, and I’m looking for a place to stay the night. I can share news of all of the cats I have seen before.”

“That's a funny-sounding name for a normal-looking fellow. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care for news,” the old cat grunted, “And I don’t care about petty gossip. But you can stay. Just keep out of my way and don’t ask any questions.”

That was more than fine with her. “Thank you.” She dipped her head. “I appreciate your generosity, sharing your barn with me.”

“Not my barn,” the old cat grumbled, turning away and stalking back towards the piles of hay. “The upwalkers built it. I just live here.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you have a name?”

“What did I just say about asking questions?”

“Surely I have to call you something.”

“No, you don’t,” he grumbled. “But you can call me Angelou.”

“Angelou,” she echoed, rolling the name on her tongue. The name sounded familiar, and she wracked her brain to remember where she had heard it. “Oh! Do you know Alexandria? The pretty gray molly who lives a few days’ travel from here outside a small twolegplace – a neighborhood?”

Angelou had started to turn away, but at Wildstep’s question he stopped. “Alexandria,” he echoed. “Yes, I do know an Alexandria that lives near a neighborhood.” He turned back towards her, ears angled forward with curiosity. “What do you know about Alexandria?”

“She’s taken a mate,” she announced, puffing her chest out as she delivered the news. This, at least, was good news. “Two, actually. Rosie and Francis. She told me that if I ran into you, I should congratulate you on becoming a grandfather.”

“I’m a grandfather?” he echoed. He stepped forward, and his tail twitched.

“He’s a ginger-and-white tom named Louis.” She paused as the name clicked into place. “After you, I think. When I saw him, he was three moons old and so boisterous that even with three parents he kept sneaking out and getting into trouble.” Wildstep purred, even though the memory brought back memories of her own kits, who had been around his age when she had left. It had been so long since she had seen them, though they were rarely far from her thoughts. They must have their warrior names by now. What were their names? Who were their mentors? What kinds of cats had they grown up to be? Did they enjoy Clan life in all of the ways she never could?

She shook her head to clear it, surprised to find Angelou purring so hard he shook. “I’m a grandfather,” he repeated softly. “A grandfather. We should celebrate! Come in, come in, get yourself out of the cold and make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s on me tonight!” Angelou padded off, skinny tail carried high as he darted off into the heaps of straw lying around the barn, muttering to himself as he tracked down something to eat.

Wildstep padded farther into the barn, settling down in a loose pile of hay. As she finished cleaning herself, smoothing her spiky ginger fur as much as she could, Angelou bounded over, several mice swinging as he carried them over by the tails. He dropped them at her paws. “Help yourself,” he purred. “There’s more where that came from.”

“Thank you.” She took a mouse for herself, her mouth water as she breathed in its warm scent. “It’s been too long since I’ve had real freshkill.”

“It’s the only proper diet a cat can have,” agreed Angelou. “That’s why I moved away from that retched neighborhood. Though it does mean I miss out on important moments in my darling Alexandria’s life… But she visits when she can. She’ll be here as soon as the Snow-season ends with that rascal in tow, I can promise you that.”

“Snow-season?” Wildstep angled her ears forward.

“Can’t you smell it on the wind? There’s a big snowstorm coming tonight. This Snow-season will be a bad one, I tell you. Of course, it’s all the same inside the barn.” Angelou flicked his ears. “You don’t need to worry about that. Stay as long as you like. Any cat bringing good news is a friend of mine.”

* * *

Angelou didn’t ask questions, and neither did she. They settled together in a quiet but steady coexistence. She learned to stand in the brightest patches in the barn when the light was good, so Angelou could see her face. When it grew dark, she brushed her fur against his, and let him read her body cues through touch.

Every sunrise, Angelou sat besides the crack in the door and watched the sun rise over the fields blanketed in snow. One morning she joined him, peering over his shoulder and squinting at the brightness. “It’s so white.”

“Well, you’ve seen snow before, haven’t ya?”

“Not like this. Where I come from, the trees block most of the snow. It never builds up on the ground enough that we’d have trouble moving around outside.”

Angelou grunted. “Well, things are different here.”

Though the exposure to the sky meant that more snow fell, it also meant that the sun could warm the ground that much quicker. Within a day or two, the snow had melted until it was barely a mouse-length tall. Wildstep ventured out one brisk morning, eager for the reminder that life existed beyond the barn’s four walls, and soon came back dragging a rabbit behind her.

“Is this a parting gift?” Angelou rasped between mouthfuls. “The snow’s melted enough for you to travel again.”

She could leave, just as easily as she had before. But living with Angelou was easy. Besides, she had never lived a Leaf-bare without a warm den to look forward to at night. Glancing outside at the blistering winds spreading around the remains of the snow, she decided she didn’t want to start now. “More snow coming tonight,” She responded.

“Sure is,” he meowed, and that was that.

Cooped inside the barn, she made up chores to keep herself busy. She held bunches of straw in her mouth and used them to sweep out the floors, keeping it free of debris so Angelou wouldn’t trip. She forced herself not to think too hard about when she did the same thing with a pine branch during her apprentice days for ShadowClan’s blind deputy. Briarstreak had never thanked the apprentices for their endless work to keep the camp free of debris, and neither did Angelou. Still, that didn’t stop her from a warm glow of pride as she examined her tidy work.

Days stretched into moons, and she settled into a comfortable routine at the barn. When she could, she hunted outside, bringing back whatever fresh kill she could catch. In return, Angelou made space for her to make a nest beside his at night, and the two of them stayed warm and cozy.

Angelou was not a busy cat. She was used to the bustle of Clan life, where cats always seemed to have something to do. There were always borders to patrol, or prey to catch, or fights to pick. But here, there were no borders, and finding something to eat was little harder than opening her mouth and waiting for a mouse to crawl in. He spent the better parts of days hunched over in a pile of hay, eyes closed. With little else to do, and her fur already so groomed she could practically see her reflection in it, and her belly, muzzle, and paws as white as the snow outside, she copied him. 

Sitting and doing nothing was calming, it turned out. , She didn't want to be calm. Not when she still woke up from nightmares that he was out there, searching for her, and it was only a matter of time before she lost this little game she had started. She would settle down, only to jump up again several heartbeats later and start to pace. Angelou's ear angled towards her, listening as she moved around the room. His whiskers twitched in amusement, and he never offered advice or solace.

She had been raised to be a warrior, always battle-ready and alert. She didn't know how to relax and do nothing.

She wasn’t the only guest at the barn. While the weather was warmer, she was alone, but as soon as Leaf-bare properly set in, cats trickled in and out all season long. Some of them knew him, and most did not.

Angelou never asked, but they always offered news from their travels. At first, she hid in the back of the barn when cats came, convinced that one of them would be him, here to track her down and take her back to the Clans. But as more and more time passed, she started to creep out of the shadows.

Wanderers were always more than happy to tell tells of their journey, and she was more than happy to listen. They never stayed long, and after a day or two, the wanderers thanked Angelou for his hospitality and continued on their way.

One day, a shadow much bigger than a cat’s fell over the door entrance. Wildstep leapt into a pile of hay, fur fluffed out and trembling. A twoleg pried open the door and crawled inside, collapsing on a bed of hay next to hers. The pelts it wore over its furless skin looked ragged and patchy, and it shivered as if it was cold.

Angelou appeared several tail-lengths away, ears angled towards the twoleg. He meowed, and the twoleg uncurled enough to stare at him. After several heartbeats, Angelou crawled into the twoleg’s lap. A deep, rumbling purr echoed throughout the barn.

Wildstep stared in disbelief. Who was this twoleg? Angelou didn’t talk much about his past, but she’s pretty sure she would have known if he used to live with twolegs. But as strange as it was to imagine him living with a twoleg, it was just as hard to envision aloof, grouchy Angelou willingly cuddling with a stranger.

She hid in her hay pile all night, and in the morning the twoleg gave Angelou one last rub behind the ears before it crept out of the barn, just as quietly as it had arrived. Only then did she crawl out of the hay.

Angelou sat on the ground, grooming himself as if nothing had happened.

“What was that?” she demanded.

The spotted gray tom flicked his ear. “Sometimes upwalkers sneak into the barn. When they look colorful and flashy, that’s when you know they’re trouble. Those upwalkers are young and looking for a fight. You know those small fire sticks that they like to put in their mouths? I’ve caught them trying to light them inside the barn. Inside, with all this flammable straw! Can you believe it? Those are the ones I chase away.” Growl rumbling in this throat, he licked his white chest to calm himself down.” But when they looked as ragged as roadkill and half-starved, they mean no harm. Sometimes they’re lost. Sometimes they’re on their own wander, just like you. Then they need little more than some reassurance that everything will be alright.”

She blinked, stunned. “I’ve never known a loner that showed such kindness to twolegs before.”

“They’re creatures too, just like us,” Angelou meowed. “For all of the control they have of this world, even they need a pick-me-up every now and then.”

She grunted, unconvinced. But no more twolegs showed up at the barn that Leaf-bare, and she didn’t have to worry about it again.

As the days grew longer, the weather became warmer, and soon she could spend all day outside without the cold nipping at her nose or paws. The rest had returned strength to her famished body, and the food had given her fat and energy. Angelou was a kind cat, and he never asked about where she came from, or how she had come to stay in the barn.

A part of her wished to stay and take care of him. But even stronger was the tugging of her heart back to the rest of the world. She had to keep moving. She couldn’t stop the lingering fear that somecat - that _he -_ was stalking her, and she had to get away.

Angelou found her outside the barn one afternoon, watching the purpling night sky. “It won’t be long until you leave,” he told her, sitting down next to her so their pelts brushed.

Wildstep dipped her head. “I’m sorry to abandon you.”

“Don’t be.” Angelou’s whiskers twitched. “Cats come and go. The barn is a resting stop for many, but a home for few. You rested longer than most, but it’s time to be on your way. I’m only sorry you won’t wait long enough to see my child and grandkit. They’ll be here any day now, I’m sure.”

“I can’t,” Wildstep admitted. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“I see.” The gray tom was still for several heartbeats. “Do y’know of the thundersnake?”

“The thundersnake?” Wildstep echoed.

“Suppose not, then. They’re monsters, like the kinds you see on the thunderpath, but bigger and louder than you can imagine. They travel up and down a silver track a day or two’s walk towards the sun. There’s a small thunderpath that intersects with it, and the thundersnake stops there to let monsters pass before continuing. I’ve heard on good authority that there’s always at least one open entrance in the side within easy jumping distance.”

Wildstep eyed the old tom closely. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Clearly, you’re trying to run away from something. Seems to me that hitching a ride on the fastest thing around is the best way to do that.”

“Don’t be silly.” Wildstep’s spiky fur fluffed up as she pictured the huge beast. “I’m not getting inside a _thundersnake_.”

“Suit yourself. But the option is there if you want it.”

She rose to her paws. “That’s mousebrained. I’m going to get us something to eat so you’ll stop talking.”

“With pleasure,” Angelou purred.

She caught them dinner, and they shared it quietly, enjoying each other’s presence. She dared to hope that the cranky old cat would miss her when she was gone.

In the morning, they watched the sun rise. As the sky turned from the soft, delicate pink of her paw pads to the bright blue of Angelou’s eyes, she pressed her nose to the white patch on the tom’s face. “Goodbye. Thank you for giving me a place to stay when I needed it.”

With the morning sun shining in her face, she pressed forward, and farther still.

* * *

She wandered through the fields and forests. Flowers bloomed at her pawsteps, and she couldn’t help but stop and examine the bright bursts of color springing out of the ground. ShadowClan’s territory didn’t have many flowers, except for along the lake shore, and even then it was mostly the dull yellow of dandelion puffs. These were small splashes of white, of red, of purple, spread across delicate petals belonging to plants she didn’t have names for.

The little flowers grew out of cracks in the ground, sprouted out of snow patches, and flourished even when the sky had more rain than sun. Fur drenched, eyes filled to the brim with bursts of color, she marveled their tenacity, and wondered if she should have been called Wildflower instead.

But despite the beauty around her, the tugging in her heart pulls her farther still, and she moved on.

On the evening of the second day, the rain poured down as heavily as ever, soaking until until she was more brown than ginger, and even her ever-spiky fur had been slicked to her skin. She lifted her nose, frowning as an unfamiliar stench flooded her nostrils. It smelled similar to the nasty fumes the monsters spewed as they ran up and down the thunderpath, but with a tang that reminded her of the crackle of lightning.

She crept forward, ears pricked forward for any sign of danger. A flash of silver up ahead – a river? No, she would have heard it by now –

The grass parts, and in the space in between are two rows of silvery sticks, stretching far to either side. The rain splattered on the hard, shiny surface, causing it to glint like a running water, though this was no river.

Just as she registered the tracks and put two and two together – these must be the silver tracks Angelou had told her about! – the ground started to shake. She backed up, tail bushing out as the rumbling grew more intense, and a roaring sound filled her ears until she couldn’t hear herself think-

A huge beast, larger than any monster, barreled past, snarling at her as it pushed by. Its long, snakelike body continued for ages. How could any creature be so big? she stared in disbelief as it kept going on and on without end.

Forcing herself to turn away, she darted behind a nearby bush and pressed her paws over her ears and prayed for the rumbling to stop.

She finally crawls out eons later, the last of the thundersnake disappearing in the distance. The acrid scent of fumes and electricity stain the air, and she wrinkled her nose. It was horrid, loud, and stinky.

Still.

It was large, meaning she wouldn’t be attacked while in its protection, and it was fast, meaning she would be hard to follow.

Her fur prickled as she imagined the possibilities.

Ears pricked for another one of the approaching monsters, she started down the path, paws light despite the squelching mud pulling her back with every step. She would find the thunderpath where the thundersnake stopped to let monsters pass, and she would join it.

Before long, she heard the buzz of distance monsters, and she pressed forward, eager for the first time in her life to spot the thunderpath. It was smaller than some thunderpaths she had seen, and there were a few twoleg dens on either side. Judging from their size and shape, these were the dens twolegs stopped at to get food for themselves or their monsters, but remained empty at night.

She shook her head in disbelief. Why make a den not to sleep in it? Twolegs were so strange!

Her stomach rumbled. The silver tracks were silent, but she didn’t want to stray too far away in case the thundersnake came while she was gone. She crept behind the twoleg structures and rummaged around, pouncing and killing a rat which she dragged back to the tracks to eat. The rat became soaked and tasteless in the rain, and she shivered so hard she thought her teeth would break, and her paws turned numb, but she didn’t dare wander off in case she missed it. If the thundersnake was anything like the monsters, it would only stop for a heartbeat, and she had to be close enough to reach it when it arrived.

The roar of monsters passing by made her feel on edge, and she paced back and forth by the silver tracks. Her tail lashed back and forth, and her neck grew a crick from how often she whipped around to search for the oncoming monster.

Finally, a sign: the ground underpaw rumbled from a noise too low to hear. She angled her ears forward, leaping to her paws when she spotted the large thundersnake rumbling down the path. There it was!

She braced her paws at it trampled closer, and to her amazement, it slowed down, screeching as it pulled to a stop in front of the thunderpath.

She paced down the sides of the thundersnake, paws thrumming with anticipation. She would only have a few heartbeats before the thundersnake would start moving again. But she couldn’t find any openings to the inside. Where was it? Angelou had promised she would have one!

Just as she was beginning to despair, a patch of blackness caught her eye. There! A small opening, barely wider than herself. But if she timed her jump just right…

With a screech, the thundersnake started to roll forward.

“No!” she yowled. She flung herself forward, claws outstretched.

She hit the edge of the opening and scrabbled with her front paws—

Her back legs kicked at empty air—

With a heave, she scrambled inside.

For a heartbeat, she lay on the floor, gasping for breath. She dug her claws into the wood underpaw as if she would fly back out the opening and into the mud outside if she let go.

Heart racing, she turned around and peered back outside. The landscape passed before her, faster than she could ever hope to run. Inside the thundersnake its growls and screeches sounded muffled, and she took a deep breath and released the tension in her shoulders.

She turned back around to see what was inside the thundersnake. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was packed with square, angular boxes. She had seen them before, usually in the rot piles outside of twoleg dens, but never so many in one spot, and never in such sharp, angular condition.

She batted at one with her paws, eager to figure out what was so valuable that only a creature as formidable as a thundersnake was allowed to carry, but to her dismay it seemed to be little more than a box.

“Why in the name of StarClan do twolegs like these things so much?” she asked. Then she wondered what was the point of invoking StarClan when she was certainly beyond their watchful eye. Whatever realm StarClan held control over, certainly it didn’t have any thundersnakes.

The rolling, barreling motion of the thundersnake was surprisingly smooth and repetitious. With little more to do than wait until the thundersnake stopped, she settled down between two stacks of boxes, and, tucked securely so she wouldn’t roll away, she closed her eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another season gone! Angelou is yet another good cat, bless his heart. When coming to the end of Moth Rising, I realized that despite one of the major side characters being blind, I never thought to question what it meant to exist as a blind cat. To make up for it, I wanted to explore some of that here, because I think it's an interesting concept.


	3. feeling, destination, love and reason

> Oh if I stopped and left a little light on and if I cared I’d be motionless again
> 
> Baby doesn’t seem to mind a little light touch and if I cared I’d be devastated once again
> 
> And everywhere you look
> 
> His heart is just a souvenir now
> 
> Stop, running is the easy thing to do
> 
> Everything you touch goes it’s own mysterious way
> 
> Maybe I misspoke
> 
> I meant to say you’re nothing like yourself
> 
> -Fool, Von Sell

* * *

The thundersnake screeched as it rattled to a stop, shaking her from her sleep. She crawled out of her makeshift nest and stretched, wincing as her cramped, numb limbs protested at the sudden movement. She ran her tongue over her fur, which had become even spikier than normal after being tousled by the twoleg boxes. Her tongue did little to smooth her spiky fur, but she felt she had to try, if she wanted to make a good first impression.

After she was satisfied that she was as presentable as she was going to get, she crawled towards the entrance out of the thundersnake, ears angled forward as she drank in the scenery around her.

Twolegs swarmed around on the ground, running around like mice after their nest has been destroyed. They squawked at each other like birds, though they were muffled by the sounds of other thundersnakes nearby and, farther off, the rumble of monsters down a crowded thunderpath.

She pawed the edge of the thundersnake’s side, uncertain. Was this where she had wanted to end up? She hadn’t thought about where she was going, only that she wanted to get farther away from where she came from. But the large twoleg dens looming overhead in the distance suggested this was a city much larger than any she had crept through before.

The thundersnake jolted, and she lost her balance, throwing herself forward at the last moment and scrambling to land on her paws. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped again, settling back down into an eerily quiet slumber.

 _I’m thankful you got me here, but I’m not sad to leave you behind,_ she thought.

A few twolegs glanced in her direction, but none paid her any mind. More interested in her were the dogs held to their sides with skinny tendrils. One dog, about twice her size with a tail longer than her entire body barked and lunged towards her, but as it choked against the end of its tendril its twoleg squawked back at it and pulled it close. The dog glared balefully at her before padding after its twoleg back into the crowd.

She stepped forward, weaving through the twolegs and careful to avoid their stomping feet. Many twolegs carried large containers with them, over their backs or dragging on the ground behind them. Where were they going? What did they carry in their containers? She had never known any creature to bring anything with it when it traveled, except for medicine cat herbs. She thought perhaps it could be food, but as a container rolled past she sniffed and pawed at the soft exterior. It didn’t smell like any food she knew of.

She follows a crowd of twolegs moving away from the thundersnake. They move away from the thundersnake’s resting spot and onto one of the smaller thunderpaths next to the larger thunderpath. She had learned that these were made especially for twolegs, so that monsters didn’t run them over when they traveled. She had to admit, twolegs were smart like that. In ShadowClan, the cats used the same trails as the deer, the rabbits, and the foxes. Most of the time nothing happened, but on the rare occasion something did happen, it was never pretty.

She winced as she recalled the time a fox almost invaded the neighboring ThunderClan camp after following those exact trails. One of their warriors had managed to fight it off, and she had the scars to prove it. At the next full moon gathering, as she had stared at the molly’s perpetually lopsided scowl and freshly healed clawmarks running down her flank, Wildstep couldn’t help but feel grateful that the fox had found its way to that warrior and not herself.

Spying a break in the crowd, she darted forward and across the thunderpath to a different part of the path. She felt painfully conspicuous with her bright ginger fur in this grungy city, but as she rose over the slight incline of the bridge, a tension in her heart lifted. She could smell cats nearby! Maybe one of them could tell her where she could hide until she was ready to move on.

The water underneath the bridge flowed like mud. She stuck her head through the gaps in the bridge to glance down at the water. Twoleg filth floated down the water, and the stench of rot hit her nose. She kept moving. As smart as twolegs were, they much also be mousebrained to throw their waste into the water. Didn’t they know that the city's cats drank that water?

She felt comforted as she reached the other side and could move away from the stench of the dirtwater. But though the stench of them filled her mouth, she couldn’t see any other cats. Did they hide during the day and come out at night, when the twolegs were asleep?

She froze, ears perked forward. Down one of the alleys in between two twoleg dens she heard something moving. She opened her mouth, grinning as she smelled mouse. If the cats only came out at night, then that meant more prey for her!

Instinctively, she dropped into a hunter’s crouch, and before she had blinked she had pounced on and killed the mouse with a swift nip to its neck.

Her stomach rumbled, as her mouth watered as she pulled the mouse into a quiet corner to enjoy by herself. Before she could take a bite, the sound of approaching pawsteps and the smell of strange cats alrted her to an approaching presence.

She lefted her head as two burly cats covered in scruffy fur and scars sauntered into the alley. A gray-and-white tom hissed when he saw her. “Don’t you mangy strays know better than to hunt on our turf?” he hissed.

“What?” she meowed.

The second cat, a dark brown tom, lashed his tail. “He _said_ —”

“I know what you said,” Wildstep meowed, rising to her paws. “But I don’t know what it means. I’m new here.”

“You hear that, Gear? She’s new here.”

“I heard, Clank.” The dark brown tom bared his teeth. “Why don’t we spell it out for her. She’ll learn to avoid Blue’s home turf quick enough!”

“I don’t need to fight,” she insisted, but as they prowled closer, she crouched down and unsheathed her claws. She had been trained as warrior, after all. She could hold her own against two rogues.

The gray-and-white tom – Clank – lunged forward, and she dashed to the side. Gear swiped at her, and she ducked before swiping at his other front leg, causing him to yowl and stumble backwards.

Clank growled. He and Gear exchanged glances, and Clank twitched his tail tip. Wildstep backed up, unsure what they were planning, when they swarmed her at the same time. She dodged Gear’s outstretched claws onto to slam into Clank’s waiting fangs. They scratched her shoulder, and she yowled before shoving him away. She sidestepped Gear’s next move, and as he stretched forward to snap at her, Clank ran into his face, and the two stumbled.

Gear rubbed his smarting nose with one brown paw. “That’s unfair.”

“That’s funny, coming from a cat who insisted on fighting two-on-one.”

Clank hissing, hackles rising.

“Let it go, you two.”

At the front of the alley stood a slender, black molly with startling silvery eyes. She wasn’t big or imposing, but Gear and Clank eyed with her with mistrust and, Wildstep thought, some fear.

“Come on,” the black molly meowed. “I know you two hate a fair fight. Two-on-two? You’d lose in a heartbeat. Get a move on.”

Clank’s gray tail bristled, but he stalked out of the alley. Gear followed him, head hung low and tail in between his legs. Clank glared at the black molly as he passed. “You know you only get away with this because you’re in the band.”

“I know.” The black molly answered, cool as ever. “Now scram.” As soon as the two disappeared around the corner, she focused her bright silver eyes on Wildstep. “Hello there! You’re new around here, aren’t you? You wouldn’t go hunting in Blue’s home turf otherwise.”

Wildstep pawed at the mouse at her feet, now pulverized beyond recognition. “That’s what those two said, but I didn’t understand what they meant. What’s a home turf? Is it like territory?”

“Sort of.” The black molly replied, padding closer. “Except territory isn't shared. The river snakes through the city, and splits into two about halfway through, and each third is controlled by a gang. You’re currently in Blue’s section. He controls everything on this side of the river. This is the heart of his section, his home turf. Cats not in his gang can hunt in his section, but they can’t do it too close to his den. You have to stick closer to the edges.”

Huh. Wildstep tilted her head, considering this. “Where I come from, cats weren’t allowed to hunt except on their territory. And we never shared.”

The black molly laughed. Her laugh sounded like twinkling birdsong. “Well, welcome to my home. Things are different here.” She glanced Wildstep up and down approvingly. “You were impressive back there. You really held your own against those two, even though they were both bigger than you.”

She flicked her ear, embarrassed at the praise. “When territory can’t be shared, you have to learn how to fight.”

“That sounds hard.” The black molly’s eyes filled with some unreadable emotion. Wildstep couldn’t decide if it was disgust or pity. Maybe both. “Well, it’s probably good that you left your home, then! Come with me. I know some cats who can treat that scratch on your shoulder. I’d hate for it to get infected.”

WIldstep rolled her shoulder, feeling the scratch running across it. It wasn’t deep, and probably wouldn’t even leave a scar. Still, she knew a wanderer couldn’t turn down hospitality when offered. Plus, she was intrigued. The molly had said she would treat it. Did she knew how to use herbs like the medicine cats back in ShadowClan did? She padded after the pretty black molly, tail raised in curiosity.

As they exited the shadow of the alley, Wildstep was surprised to realize that her new friend wasn’t plain black. She had thought perhaps the molly was covered in twoleg scraps, but no, she was well and truly speckled in white spots all over her body. She had never seen something like it before. She stared, mesmerized.

The black molly caught her staring and purred in amusement. The white spots flecked across her body, most concentrated on her face. Her muzzle wasn’t just any plain white marking, Wildstep realized. The flecking spread from her nose across her face and eyes. “What’s your name, wanderer?”

Too taken aback by the molly’s unusual markings, she couldn’t find her voice. “Uh.”

The black molly purred. “Cat got your tongue? That’s fine. I’ll give you a name, then. From now on, you will be known as Rags, because you’re so bedraggled.”

Wildstep shook out her tufted ginger fur, self-conscious of how patchy she must appear to this groomed, sleek molly. The name rankled her, but she forced her fur to lie flat. Maybe this molly had given her the perfect out. Even if _he_ followed her to the city and asked after her, he wouldn't be able to find her if no cat knew her true name. “I can be Rags,” she offered. Remembering the ritual all wanderers were supposed to follow before being offered hospice, she added, “And I bring news from my travels.”

“There’s no need for those formalities,” the black molly waved her tail. “We’re all friends here. Well, except for Gear and Clank. They’re only friends with themselves. Between you and me, I don’t think even Blue likes them, but he doesn’t know how to get rid of them.” She laughed again. “Anyways, my name is Starlight.”

On second thought, maybe the name Wildstep wouldn't stick out in the names of cats here, if they all had names as strange as this one. “Starlight?” she echoed.

The black molly twitched her whiskers. “Why are you so surprised? At least I have a name. I can't say the same about you.” 

“Where I come from, only leaders are allowed to have Star in their name. And it usually comes at the end of their name, not the beginning.”

“Well, I am a leader, I suppose. I’m a leader of my own life. Oh, and a band, of course.”

“A band?”

“Oh, that’s only the eighth most important thing I have to catch you up on. Come on. There’s a lot for you to learn about this city.”

Starlight loped forward, and she had no choice but to follow and resign herself to her myriad of unanswered questions. Starlight led her down several small thunderpaths. Wildstep tried to keep track of where they were heading, but after the third turn her internal map had gotten so messed up that she resigned herself to being stuck here forever.

After what felt like days, Starlight stopped in front of a twoleg den with a pointed roof. “here we are.”

Wildstep eyed the twoleg den. As they watched, a couple of twolegs exited, squawking to each other in their twoleg voices. “Really? Inside the twoleg den?”

“Underneath it, really.” Starlight bound past the small patch of fgrass in front of the den and towards the back. She followed, surprised when Starlight crouched in front of a hole at the base of the den. “In here.”

“In there?” She eyed the dark entrance, fur rippling with uncertainty. Despite her travels, she rarely went inside buildings. Rarer still did she go inside twoleg dens that were still in use.

In answer, Starlight ducked into the entrance and vanished.

Without anywhere else to go, she braced herself and followed.

The underneath of the twoleg den was dark and quiet. She blinked, surprised that it wasn’t infested with twolegs. The floor was several tail lengths below her, connected from a set of rickety wooden ramps propped up from the entrance to the ground. Starlight waited on the ground, waiting for her to come down.

She toed her way down the ramp, tail swaying side to side to keep her balance as he ramp swayed underpaw. She leapt down a few tail lengths from the end of the ramp. “That thing is going to collapse one day,” she vowed.

“Aren’t we all?” meowed Starlight, sounding amused. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to Chubby.” She padded forward, and Wildstep followed, close at her heels.

Now that she was done being intimidated by the ramp, she realized the entire den was filled with the scent of cats. Nests made out of leaves and the soft pelts that twolegs wore over their furless bodies were set in rows alongside the walls, and she saw several cats sleeping or sharing tongues quietly in them. Other cats were padding along the room, talking with others or picking through a small pile of what she could only assume was this place’s freshkill pile.

A strange sound filled her ears. It was something that she couldn’t quite place. What one earth was that noise? Locating the sound, she stared as she realized it wasn’t from twolegs, as she had thought, but cats. Four cats stood in the center of the den, doing… something. It looked like they were beating on twoleg trash in a steady rhythm, but why, she couldn’t guess.

Starlight whisked her tail underneath Wildstep’s nose until the ginger molly tore herself away from the spectacle. “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

“What are they doing?”

“That’s only, like, number five on your list of important things.”

Huh. Wildstep stuck close to Starlight as she weaved her way into a group of cats. They scattered as she approached, until the white-flecked cat stood in front of a stout, round molly with a flat face. “Chubby!” she called out. “I have a friend! And she needs treatment!”

The cat didn’t seem to hear her, and it wasn’t until one of the other cats flicked their tail against her shoulder and motioned with a jerk of their chin that she turned to stare at them. As he gaze fell on Wildstep, her bright orange eyes popped out of her flat, blue-furred head. “Huh. Who’re you?” Her meow was grating and harsh, and she spoke with exaggerated emphasis.

Wildstep lifted her chin, conscious of the gaze of every cat as they turned to stare at her. 

“She held her own against Gear and Clank!” Starlight chirped. “I wish you all could have seen it. She was flashing.” She grinned at Chubby, who stared blankly back at her. After a moment, Starlight made a little, “oh!” she repeated herself, making sure to maintain eye contact with the blue molly and using exaggerated facial expressions and whisker and ear movements to make her point.

Chubby grunted, looking unimpressed. She blinked at Wildstep, as if asking a question.

Wildstep turned to her side, showing the blue molly the scratch running down her shoulder. Following Starlight’s cue, she made sure she was staring straight at the molly as she meowed, “They gave me a scratch. Starlight told me you could treat it.”

The squat molly stepped forward, sniffing at her cut. She resisted the urge to shiver at the molly’s probing breath. After a heartbeat, the blue molly stepped back and flicked her tail. “Tigger, go get the cat some marigold. There should be some growing outside the entrance.”

A brown tabby dipped his head before scampering off. As he bounded away, Wildstep noticed he moved with a limp, though she couldn’t see any scars or deformities.

Chubby flicked her ear towards the nests. “Lie down. Tigger will help. Starlight, you’re in charge of this one.”

“Of course!” the black molly chirped, as upbeat as ever.

Chubby nodded before padding away. The other cats trickled away, no longer interested in the newcomer. Starlight lead Wildstep over to the nests and sat down next to her, tucking in the scraps of twoleg pelt around her sides. Wildstep had to admit that as far as city nests go, this was pretty good; the material was laid down thick enough that she couldn’t feel the cold stony ground underpaw, and it smelled more of cat than rotpile.

As she finished settling down, Tigger appeared, carrying several flowers in his jaws. He sat down in front of Wildstep before chewing up the leaves, grinding them into a pulp. As he spread them onto Wildstep’s scratch, she shivered.

She knew about a handful of basic herbs, which she had learned mostly in her far-off days of apprenticeship. At the time the medicine cat had been apprentice-less; Ambereye had been all too happy to ramble off about herbs while the warrior apprentices helped him gather herbs or cleaned out the medicine den.

She couldn’t remember the last time a cat had tended to her. It had to have been Ambereye, after she had given birth to her kits. Her heart panged as she thought of them now.

She came back to her thoughts as Starlight dropped something at her paws. The smell of cooked meat filled her nose. She glanced up at Starlight; the black molly must have grabbed it while she was distracted by Tigger.

“I can take it from here, Tigger. Thanks.” Starlight’s smooth mew. “Here, Rags, help yourself. It’s no mouse, but loners can’t be choosers, right?”

“Right,” muttered Wildstep, practically inhaling the meat as Tigger limped off.

As she ate, Starlight started to purr again. “You picked up quickly with Chubby. I forgot to tell you about Chubby, but you figured out what was what quick enough! She needs to see your face when you address her because she can’t hear very well, is all.”

Wildstep grunted. In ShadowClan, none of her Clanmates had been deaf, but the other Clans did, and she understood what it meant to accommodate a cat. It’s never asking too much to pay attention and be respectful.

Starlight continued, “I’m sure you’re wondering what is going on. Like I said, there are three parts of this city, and each part is ruled by a different gang. There are a few neutral zones. You’re currently in one of them. We're on Barcode's side of the city, but this entire block is neutral, to protect the cats living here. This is the home of the guardian cats.”

“Guardian cats?” Wildstep echoed. She had already finished her mouse, and she swiped her paws over her whiskers as she sat up. “What are they the guardians of?”

“Other cats,” Starlight answered. “The guardian cats take care of the cats of this city. There’s no leader, so they all come to group consensus when a decision needs to be made. They don't need to do that too often, though. They take care of us, so we make sure they’re well taken care of.” She motioned with her tail and Wildstep spotted another molly a few nests away, sleeping on her side to expose her round, pregnant belly. “Bean belongs to Pecan's gang on the other side of the river. She came here to have her kits, and she’ll return as soon as they’re big enough to walk on their own.”

“And the guardians do this all for free?” Wildstep asked, amazed.

“In return, the gang leaders allow the guardians to hunt and travel freely across their sections. Loners and wanderers such as yourself are expected to pay back with prey or herbs, but it’s not necessary.”

Wildstep grunted. “And you’re one of them? A… guardian cat?”

Starlight laughed. “Me? A guardian cat? Stars, no! I’m friends with the guardian cats because my mother brought me here as a kit. I had two black parents, you see, and she was convinced my white spots were an illness. I stuck around until Chubby determined that I was fine, just special, and she’s been trying her best to get rid of me eve since!” she purred, amused at her own joke. “No, I’m a part of one of the bands.”

Wildstep tipped her head, waiting.

Starlight purred. “Yes, I can tell you what bands are now. This is a band!” she waved her paw at the group of cats in the center of the den, beating rhythmically on their… somethings.

She bounced forward. “Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

Wildstep rose to her paws and trailed after the white-speckled cat. Starlight tapped her paw on the ground, impatient as she caught up.

“This is the band!” Starlight announced, flicking her ear towards the gathered cats. None of them stopped their rhythmic beating, but they glanced her way. A few of them nodded in her direction. There were four cats in total, and each one was creating their rhythm with a different object.

“There are several bands throughout the city. They act as splinters of the largest neutral group in the city.”

“The biggest group isn't the guardian cats?” 

“No,” Starlight shook her head. “The largest neutral group are known as the rave cats, though they function more like the guardian cats than the gangs. There’s no true leader, though each rave has its own host with its own guards. Hosts organize the raves and make sure everything is running smoothly, while the guards make sure no cat gets in without payment and help break up any fights. Most bands perform at raves, or travel around the city to perform for cats that can’t get to the raves. In return, bands get food and a place to sleep from wherever they hosted. The bands take turns playing with the guardian cats, as an act of goodwill and hospitality. And publicity, you see.” She winked.

Playing? Performing? What? She shook her head, unable to understand.

Thankfully, Starlight didn’t seem put down by her confusion. “Let me explain. This is the plucker.” She waved her tail at a black-and-white cat using his claws to pull at several long silvery lines tied taught to a long, bowed piece of wood. The strings were all different lengths, and each string made a different sound when he plucked.

“Our beater,” Starlight motioned to a skinny black cat tapping on shiny, round objects. “Our blower,” a round orange molly blew over long, skinny brown twoleg containers, “and our scratcher. The scratcher keeps sets the beat and helps everycat stay on the same tempo.” The scratcher ran her claws up and down some twoleg object that was mostly flat, except for pointed ridges running across its surface. “And together,” Starlight added with a flourish, “They create music! Isn’t it flashing?”

“Music?” she echoed. Her head span, and the information Starlight has tossed at her threatened to overflow her brain and bubble out of her ears. “What?”

Starlight purred and glanced at the plucker, who shook his head in amusement. “Rags doesn’t know what music is. It’s always so strange to be reminded that outsiders don’t have music!”

“What is music? Why do you listen to it?” Wildstep demanded.

When starlight turned towards her, her silvery eyes flashed with excitement. “You’ll understand when you come to the rave with me tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes!! City cats! 
> 
> So now we get to the parts of this story that have outside influences, huzzah! The thundersnake and guardian cats are from the Warriors super edition Tigerheart's Shadow, but the geography of the city, the gangs, the music, and the raves (which we will see in more detail next chapter!) all belong to Stormikat's fanfiction, Burning Darkly. It was one of the first stories I read when I discovered fanfiction so many years ago and I loved reading it! I loved the glimpses into ShadowClan life and the fun worldbuilding (cats that play music!! yes!!) I did make one small adjustment - in Burning Darkly, pluckers were actually called string players. However, the first string player was named Plucker! I imagine that the OG Plucker played so well that any good string player was called Plucker in his honor, and soon the position simply became known as plucker, regardless of skill.
> 
> Stormikat is currently writing a new story about morality, medicine cats, and vengeful StarClan warriors. It's only a few chapters in but I've been really enjoying it so far! Check it out: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13680357/1/Ill-Medicine
> 
> And thanks to Shay for reading this over once again.


	4. rooftop dancing

> Slow-mo throwing my body in the air
> 
> Making the jump from ledge to ledge
> 
> Long hair flying, we’re out of breath
> 
> We’re rooftop dancing
> 
> -Rooftop Dancing, Sylvan Esso

* * *

As soon as the sun stained the sky a vibrant pink, Starlight scurried out of the guardian cats’ hangout. Wildstep had tried to thank Chubby for her hospitality, but the flat-faced molly had waved her off, only telling her to be quiet when she returned so she didn’t wake the others.

Unwilling to get lost once again, Wildstep had no choice but to scramble after Starlight. A few blocks away from the guardian cats, Starlight veered off into an alley. Wildstep pricked her ears, surprised they had arrived already, but lowered them again when the black molly appeared a heartbeat later, carrying a shiny twoleg object in her mouth. It was one the shiny twoleg leaves, folded around a cooked bird. Wildstep’s mouth watered.

Starlight tossed her the silver leaf. “Take this with you. Don’t eat it. It’s your payment to get into the rave. Every cat has to bring something.”

The black molly carried her tail high as she padded through the city. If the twolegs in her way bothered her, she didn’t show it, striding along with a single-minded determination. Wildstep was left to chase after her, panting as she fought to keep up. “Where are we going?”

“My band plays in Pecan's territory. The guardian cats are in Barcode's territory. We have to cross the river, but only just. The roof raves are usually centralized and in clear neutral zones.”

“Neutral zones?”

“Zones that aren’t too close to a gang leader’s home base. It’s still Pecan's land, but as long as he’s not struggling to find food, any cat can use it. They just have to be polite about it. Pecan likes it when we play. We're good players, so we bring more cats to his section. Sometimes other cats will join his gang, just so they can live closer to the rooftop raves,” Starlight explained, not breaking her stride. “The upwalkers don’t usually start playing until late at night, so my band is the opening act.”

Wildstep tried to imagine Starlight playing soft, rhythmic music like the band in the guardian cats’ hangout. She couldn’t.

After so long that Wildstep feared her jaw would be stuck in a permanent clench around the shiny twoleg leaf, Starlight stopped. She waved her tail down an alley. “We’re here.”

Down the alley, Starlight hopped up one of the large, dull containers twolegs stored their waste in, before leaping from there to a black platform sprouting off of one of the twoleg dens. The platform zig-zagged up the twoleg den to the roof. Wildstep’s vision swam as she craned her head back to follow it all the way up. She had to climb all the way up there?

“Come on, slowpoke!” Starlight teased, and realizing she had no choice, she bunched her hind legs and followed. The twoleg waste container clanged as her claws scraped against it, and the black platform shook under the impact of her landing. The platform wasn’t solid, she realized, but formed of intertwining hard tendrils. The tendrils pressed into her paws uncomfortably, and she winced.

Starlight whisked her tail against Wildstep’s ginger fur. “Come on. It’ll be better when you’re at the top.”

They padded up the platform, Wildstep for once glad of her gift, because carrying it meant she had to hold her head up and couldn’t look down past her paws at the ground, a dizzyingly distance below.

At the top, Starlight breathed in and let out a huge breath. “I love the smell of rooftop air!” she declared, bounding forward.

Wildstep paused at the edge of the rooftop, bracing herself as a wind cut against her fur. It was still new-leaf, and at night the air was chilly, and she shivered. Still, as she glancing over the edge of the rooftop and at the city spread out before her, she understood the molly’s awe. The city was HUGE! She wondered if all cities were like this, or if this city was special. She had never seen one from so high up before.

The sound of a cat’s warning meow alerted her. Wildstep looked up to meet the questioning brown eyes of a ginger-and-white tom. His bushy dark gray tail stretched behind him as he watched her. He was guarding the entrance to the rooftop, she realized. “You new here?”

Wildstep nodded.

The tom flicked his ears behind him. “Is that your payment? You can drop it over there.” Wildstep nodded, but before she could move, he continued, “Name’s Bigwumps, but you can call me Wump. I’m one of the rooftop guards for Terry’s raves. If you have any questions, ask me or Terry.” He flicked his tail in the direction of a stout gray tabby molly, who was chasing down Starlight with little success, as the younger molly kept interrupting to point at the skyline and cry out in awe.

Wildstep shuffled forward to drop her prey in the pile. It was small, but she supposed there weren’t many cats here yet. Looking around, she saw Wump, Terry, Starlight, and a few other cats fiddling with objects that she supposed were for their band – what had Starlight called them? Instruments? What a silly word.

A few of the cats plucked or blew or tapped on their instruments before nodding in approval or frowning and fiddling with them and trying again. Wildstep couldn’t tell the difference between a sound that made them purr in approval or frown in disapproval, but she guessed those were the sorts of things a cat trained herself to listen for if she played in a band. She didn’t expect these cats to know the difference between a mouse treading on pine needles or a rabbit moseying through the grass, after all.

As the sky darkened, more cats showed up. Bigwumps stopped every cat before they came in, inspecting them and their payment. He only turned away a few cats, and she saw him check to make sure Terry wasn’t watching before ushering inside a few half-starved cats that were little more than bags of skin and bone.

Wildstep hung back, willing to observe but not engage. A few cats noticed her and came over to say hi, but after a short, terse conversation, most turned away. She observed, watching as the cats huddled together in deep conversation with one another. This was the first time she had seen so many cats at once since she had left the Clans, and her fur prickled with unease at being stuck in such a large crowd. 

Cats of all kinds trickled in. Old cats, young cats, cats missing eyes or half their tail or riddled with scars. The youngest cats were about apprentice-age, she guessed; no cat brought their kittens. The oldest cats would have put the Clans’ elders to shame. These cats didn’t take care of each other the same way the Clans did, and she was surprised to see such old cats. But maybe with no fighting over borders, and with no shortage of food due to the twoleg rotpiles, old age was no longer an nearly impossible feat.

She jumped with surprise when she saw the meaty forms of Gear and Clank clambering onto the rooftop. But when they saw her, they only nodded cordially before being drawn into a conversation with another cat. She forced her fur to lie flat; Starlight had said the raves were neutral zones, after all. The rooftop must be like a full-moon gathering for the Clans, then, and a truce was called on all grudges for the night. 

She didn’t see any kittypets. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not.

There was a round container filled with water near the food pile, and every now and then Terry would come by and inspect it. If the levels dropped too low, she called a cat over, another one of her guards, she supposed, to fetch more water. The guard brought up water using mossballs soaked with water from somewhere at the base of the building. Her heart panged unexpectedly at the sight, reminded of her days fetching water for the elders in ShadowClan.

She hadn’t thought of her old home in so long. She never regretted leaving - the constant patrolling and fighting over scraps of food had never felt right to her. But that didn't mean she never missed her Clanmates; while she sometimes found them too aggressive or close-minded, most of them hadn't been _evil_.

Most.

She wondered how her kits were doing. They’d have been warriors for several moons, now. Did they have mates? Did they have dreams and ambitions? Were they happier there than she had been?

She was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of scuffling and yowls. Two cats had gotten into a fight, rolling around and causing a ruckus. Cats around them yowled and complained as they pulled back, edging away from the kerfuffle.

“Hey! Knock it out, you two.” Terry forced herself in between the two cats, tail bushed up to twice its normal size. Bigwumps darted over from his spot by the entrance and grabbed the bigger of the two, a black cat with scraggly fur, by the scruff and pull him back. He spat and waved his claws, but Bigwumps easily dwarfed the cat, and he held his ground with ease. The other cat calmed down, though she still crouched defensively, eyeing both Terry and the black cat with distrust. The crowded quieted as the fight broke up, and even Wildstep couldn’t help but edge closer, curious to see what would happen.

Terry sniffed. “Toaster. Isabelle. What did I tell you two about fighting on my rooftop?”

“Not to do it,” the smaller molly muttered.

Terry nodded, and looked at the black tom. He spat, but eventually he repeated, “Not to do it.”

“Exactly.” She whisked her tail. “And what do you two do? Start a fight. Whatever business you have with each other is your business. Don’t bring it here. By the mighty oaks, if you two lover birds can’t work it out on your own time, then maybe you shouldn’t go to the same raves every night, yeah?” She shook her head. “Bigwumps. Butterbean. See them out. And don’t let them back in.” She glared at the two, and they both cowered under her fierce gaze. “You’re both exiled from Terry’s roof raves. Find another rave to pick squabbles at.”

She watched as Bigwumps and another cat, a large, long-furred tabby molly, lead the two cats to the entrance. They slunk away, tails tucked between their legs and not making eye contact with any other cat. One or two cats made jeering comments as they passed, but most let them by without a word.

After they left, Terry leaping to the front of the rooftop, next to the band with their instruments. The gathered cats hushed in anticipation. The chunky tabby surveyed the crowd, tail twitching with satisfaction. “Sorry for the disturbance. Thank you all for coming,” she called out, her meow smooth. “The band will play now.”

The gathered cats called out, meowing their approval and thrumming their paws against the hard rooftop. All eyes turned upon the band with anticipation. She counted, and found a plucker, blower, scratcher, and beater, all with instruments similar to the ones the band at the guardian cats had used.

Starlight bobbed her tail back and forth, counting out an unseen rhythm. At once, the cats started to play their instruments. They tapped and blew and scratched in unison. The music was jauntier than the guardian cats slow, somber tune, and she spotted cats in the crowd bobbing their heads to the beat.

With a start, Wildstep realized she didn’t know what instrument Starlight played. But Starlight stood in front of the band, and she didn’t hold any instrument in front of her.

And she opened her mouth and sang.

* * *

“So? What did you think?”

The band had stopped playing, announcing that the twolegs would start their music soon, and left the stage to the yowls and thrums of approval from the crowd. The crowd was impossibly thick, now, and Wildstep hovered at the edge, unwilling to move through.

Still, Starlight had just as soon stepped off stage as she hovered in front of Wildstep, eyes sparkling with eagerness and life. She was surprised to realize that the black molly wasn’t just asking to be polite, but because she actually cared about her opinion.

“It was amazing,” she answered. “I’ve never seen or heard anything like it. If we had music back where I came from, I might’ve never left!”

she had meant the last part as a joke, but Starlight’s expression clouded at her words. “Then I’m glad it didn’t! Our music is better than anywhere else in the world! Our music started here, you know,” she added, pushing her chest out with pride.

“Oh?” asked Wildstep, mostly to encourage Starlight to continue explaining, as she clearly wanted to.

“Of course! Seasons and seasons ago, no cats could play music. We could only dance to the upwalker music. But then a kittypet named Coonie ran away from her upwalkers and made her way to the rooftop raves! She was so inspired that she and some of her friends decided to create their own music! And here we are!” she spread her paw out and waved it at the crowd, purring.

“That’s impressive,” Wildstep answered.

“Sometimes wanderers have passed through and been inspired, and I’ve heard you can find bands in other places. But they all pale in comparison to the real thing! And, of course, my band is the best. Terry and her guards are the best, too.” She added, glancing at Bigwumps by the entrance with some fondness. “This is our home base, and except for our stints with the guardian cats, we only play here. When you get good enough, cats want to come to you, and you don’t have to go to them!”

“I don’t doubt that,” Wildstep glanced at the crowd, leery. Even Clan gatherings hadn’t been as crowded as this! The lake had been larger, and cats had been able to spread out and share tongues with ease.

“The upwalkers have their own music, of course,” Starlight added. “They’ll be starting any heartbeat now. Their music isn’t as good as ours, of course.” She nodded towards a small stream of cats heading off of the roof. “But that means there’s more room to dance!”

“Dance?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice everycat dancing? Unless you were too taken aback by my gorgeous voice to notice anything else?” She purred in amusement and nudged Wildstep.

“Uh,” said wildstep, because that had been true. She wasn’t attracted to the molly, and she didn’t get the impression that Starlight flirted with her for any reason other than to be friendly. But the music had been so ethereal that she hadn’t been able to look away.

“Aw, that’s cute.” Starlight purred.

At that moment, the twoleg den nearby started to shake, and a deep reverberation reverberated from inside. Several cats called out in glee, moving from the edges where they had been resting with their friends back to the center of the roof. It sounded different from Starlight’s music, in a way she couldn’t name. It sounded metallic, in a way. But it was music, she supposed.

She preferred Starlight’s band.

“Come on!” Starlight called, nudging Wildstep forward. “I’ll teach you how to dance.”

She would have thought starlight would be tired after all of that singing, but if anything, she seemed energized by it. She pressed towards the crowd, and Wildstep scrambled after. She felt the excitement sparking off of Starlight as if it was something physical, as if she could catch it and hold it in her paws.

“What is this?” Wildstep asked, glancing at the swarming cats. They’re just… moving. It’s so chaotic.” She knew of dancing. Or she thought she knew of dancing, in any case. Back in the Clans, they knew the word; one of the Clan cats had even been named Foxdance. But the Clans’ dancing was nothing like this.

Starlight paused, standing out like blood on snow among the writhing and swarming. She leaned over to Wildstep as she caught up, murmuring in her ear to be heard over the roar of the music. “Look for the pattern.”

WIldstep stared. What did she mean? Patterns? All she saw was random squirming and writhing masses. But maybe if she squinted, and angled her ears forward, and _looked_ \-- “That cat looks like they’re swimming,” she meowed, surprised. She flicked her ear towards a small tortoiseshell that reminded her of Maudlin. The tortoiseshell waved back and forth on her paws, and her head and tail rippled as if pushing her way through an invisible current. She motioned to another cat, who crouched on the ground and waved his tail back and forth as he thrummed against the ground with his paws. “And he looks like he’s stalking a mouse.”

“Excellent!” Starlight meowed, her meow tinged with affection. “Now that you can see it, the best way to learn it is to do it. Come on. Follow my lead.”

The white-flecked molly darted into the crowd, leaping and bounding and swimming and pouncing. Wildstep followed, copying Starlight’s moves. The more experienced molly danced circles around her, sometimes literally, but she never scolded or offered advice. “Keep going!” or “Feel the music! You’re dancing with me, but really, you’re dancing with the music.”

Wildstep didn’t understand, but she moved, clumsy as a kitten on her first trip out of the nursery. But she was trying, trying.

And at some point between the music shaking the ground beneath her paws, or the dizzyingly warm air that was trapped beneath the swarm of cats, or her aching paws as she twirled for the countless time, it clicked. The music sank into her bones, and she felt the _flow_. Starlight was right: she wasn’t dancing with any of the cats here. She was dancing with the music.

And she’s dancing, and she’s dancing, and she’s dancing.

“You’ve got it!” Starlight cheered, and so did the cats around her, because they were following Wildstep’s kitten-like attempts at dancing, or because they were alive, and didn’t need a better excuse than that to cheer.

And she cheered too, and for just a heartbeat, she was free and without worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rave cats! rave cats! I hope you enjoy this chapter because I LOVE these dancing cats! This is a bit on the shorter side, but it felt significant enough to be its own chapter.


	5. over and over and over and over again

> And we climbed onto the roof of the museum
> 
> And someone made love in the grass
> 
> And I forgot my name
> 
> And the way back to my mother's house
> 
> With your Blackpool eyes and your bitten lips
> 
> The world is at your fingertips
> 
> It doesn't get better than this
> 
> What else could be better than this?
> 
> -South London Forever, Florence and the Machine

* * *

With Starlight’s guidance, it was easy to adjust to life in the city. Wildstep had settled into a life with the guardian cats; her scratch had long since healed, but Chubby or any of the other cats asked her to the leave, so she stayed. She hunted for them when she could, and gathered herbs when she couldn’t.

She learned that many of the guardian cats were in a similar situation to herself. A pawful of cats, like Chubby or Tigger, were expert healers and took care of any cats that came for help. Cats visited often, seeking their guidance. Many were older cats, seeking ailments to ease their aching joints. Some of them were pregnant queens, such as Bean, or cats who had gotten sick or injured after a run-in with a gang, or a group of particularly nasty twolegs. Those cats rarely stayed longer than it took to be treated, though some visited almost every day, lining up outside the guardian cat’s entrance every morning as they waited for the guardian cats to bring out their treatments.

A small number were too injured or sick to leave. One of them was an older cat named Hobie, who struggled to remember even basic things, like how to clean up after himself. His littermate Hope had brought him to the guardian cats, hoping to learn how to best take care of him and make sure his life was as enjoyable as possible, since he’d never be able to live independently. She ended up enjoying her their company so much that she had become a full-time guardian cat, spending her days doting on her littermate and the other sick cats.

Many cats were in Wildstep’s position. They only knew a handful of herbs and their uses, most of their knowledge having been accrued helping out the full-time guardian cats. They made their keep by finding herbs and food for the guardian. Starlight had been in a similar position to Wildstep before she started a band; now she spent her days living with her band near the center of the city and her rave roof.

So Wildstep helped out when she could, and spent the rest of her day with Starlight.

While the sun was up, she and Starlight explored the city’s nooks and crannies, poking their noses into every corner they could find. Starlight showed her all of the best rotpiles to find food and the twoleg dens that had the best views of the sunset.

Normally, Wildstep resigned herself to twoleg rotfood at best, but Starlight showed her how to scavenge for the best scraps. She was as skilled at finding tasty twoleg food as Wildstep was a hunter.

“The trick is to know where to look,” Starlight had explained. Since she was under the protection as a member of a band, and Wildstep was safe as a temporary guardian cat, they had made sure to check out every twoleg rotpile that they could sniff out. “Upwalkers that live in the tall dens don’t eat as much food, and they throw less out. But you know the upwalker dens that no one lives in, but they all go inside at night to eat? Those dens throw out so much food!”

“If that’s where twolegs go to eat, why do they throw so much of their food out?” Wildstep asked.

Starlight flicked her tail. “Who knows? It’s not worth worrying about. That’s not even the tenth weirdest thing about upwalkers.”

Wildstep side-eyed her. She knew a lot about twolegs at this point, more than any Clan cat could hope to know, but she didn’t know what could be weirder than wasting perfectly good food. “If you say so.”

It felt like Starlight knew every cat in the city. There wasn’t a cat they didn’t pass that she didn’t greet by name and ask after their family. Some cats were aloof and ignored her, though if it hurt her feelings she never let it show. Most cats were more than happy to pause in their own meanderings to share the latest gossip. Most of these cats, Wildstep learned, were not affiliated with a gang, rave, or band. They were simply eking out a living as loners, making friends when they could and fighting over food when they couldn’t.

(It made Wildstep wonder why Blue and the others had gangs anyways, if living in a gang didn’t seem to guarantee safety or a full belly. Indeed, many of the loners they ran into looked as happy and round as a kittypet. She supposed the city cats joined gangs for the same reason wild cats formed the Clans. Some cats liked being in charge, and others liked being told what to do.)

(The city’s gangs didn’t seem nearly as restrictive as the Clans had been. Cats were allowed to come and go as they please, and she had even heard of cats switching gangs to join up with a mate or family member without too much drama. Still, she had had enough of organized cat groups to last a lifetime. Her arrangement with the guardian cats was more than enough, thank you very much.)

“Did you hear about Cheddar?” one of the cats, a white cat with black spots on her rump and tail named Birch, asked in a hushed whisper one day.

It was raining, as it often did this time of year. All three of them were misted in a covering of water. Wildstep’s whiskers beaded with raindrops, and every time she spoke, they flicked off of the ends of her whiskers. She tucked her paws (once white, now gray with sopping wet city water, which she could hardly call clean) close to her body and wrapped her fluffed-up tail around them, trying to keep warm. The three of them crouched underneath an overhang budding out from a twoleg den in an alley on the outskirts of Blue’s section. They were far enough towards the edges of his section that they wouldn’t be kicked out, though Wildstep couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.

Despite the rain, the warmer season was well on its way; it was that balmy middle ground between New-leaf and Green-leaf. Except for her soaked paws, she was only wet on the tips of her fur, and only manageably cold. She flicked her ears free of water droplets as Birch spoke, leaning in to hear better over the patter of rain.

Starlight’s eyes widened as she leaned in close. “What happened? Last I heard, she was expecting, but was acting very cagey when asked who the special somecat was.”

Birch _tsk_ ed and shook her head. “Oh, that’s old news! No, listen - She’s been abducted.”

Wildstep normally hung back during these conversations, unwilling to insert herself into Starlight’s social life. But at Birch’s words, she pricked her ears forward. “What do you mean, abducted?”

“By upwalkers,” Birch whispered. She shuddered and eyed her surroundings, as if she was afraid a twoleg might jump out from behind a corner and snatch her away. “They took her away.”

“Will she come back?” Wildstep asked, incredulous.

The molly flicked her ear. “Maybe,” she hedged. “Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t. If they do come back, it’s only after the upwalkers have worked their magic on them. They take away their ability to have kits, but in return the cat can’t catch certain diseases.” The molly wrapped her back tail around her white paws. “I’m no friend of the upwalkers,” she meowed. “My mom was a housecat once, and they starved and hit her. I was raised to be distrustful of them, see. But some cats don’t mind being abducted. They think the trade off is worth it.”

Wildstep backed off. She curled her tail around her belly, thinking of her own kits. It had pained her to leave them behind, and she would have hated to have her ability to have them taken away from her against her will. “How common is this?”

“See for yourself,” the black-and-white molly meowed. “You can always tell if a cat’s been abducted. The upwalkers cut the tip of their ear off. I think it’s so other upwalkers can tell if they’ve been taken or not.”

Wildstep’s eyes grew wide. She glanced at Starlight; the pretty black molly didn’t have a slice in her ear. Neither did Birch.

“I’m sorry to hear about Cheddar,” meowed Starlight, flicking her whiskers free of raindrops. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”

Birch agreed, and went on her way. Wildstep frowned as she left. “Do you really believe her? It sounds like Cheddar just wanted to have her kits in privacy, without every cat sticking their nose up in her private business. Besides, who heard of twolegs abducting cats off the street?”

“Oh, it happens, alright,” Starlight mewed ominously. “I’ve seen it happen." she stared at Wildstep for a heartbeat before adding, "You know, I would have thought it had happened to you, if you hadn't reacted like that when Birch told you. You have the same sliced ear."

Wildstep pulled back, startled. She ran her paw over her ear, feeling out the ragged edge running across the tip. "That's just an old scar," she meowed, though she couldn't help but feel shaken. "One of the causalities of my past life."

Starlight nodded. "You know, I think the upwalkers think they’re helping, when they abduct cats. They’re weird like that.”

Wildstep shivered. She glanced around her, suddenly aware of how exposed they were, standing in the middle of this alley. For the first time in moons, she found herself longing for the protective, shady pine trees of ShadowClan.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Clearly, the city isn’t perfect. But neither was ShadowClan, not by a long shot. “This is definitely weirder than twolegs throwing out perfectly good food,” she admitted, since it was easier to admit that than to voice her fears out loud.

“I told you so,” Starlight quipped. The sparkle appeared in her silver eyes again, and she bounded forward, white spots flashing in the morning light. “Come on, Rags, there’s a park with a small forest up ahead. You’re going to love it, wildcat.”

Just as she had been with everycat she’d met on her journey, she’d been careful about saying too much about her past. But Starlight was as pushy as she was friendly, and it didn’t take long before she had wheedled every last fact about the Clans and Wildstep’s life as a wildcat, as Starlight called it, out of her.

Only about the Clans, of course. Not her personal life. Even Starlight didn’t know about her kits, or about _him_ , and how she still looked over her shoulder at every corner, watching for his piercing eyes in the shadows.

Unlike Maudlin, Starlight hadn’t been that impressed. She’d insisted that it couldn’t have been too interesting if she had wanted to leave, and left it at that. Wildstep was happy to let her come to her own conclusions.

Starlight’s peppy attitude was infectious, and it wasn’t hard to leave all of her misgivings about the city back in that alley with that whispered conversation. Food was plentiful, cats rarely seemed to fight. They seemed to have struck the perfect balance between living in groups and living alone. And, of course, there was the music.

At night, she went to the raves.

She would never be completely comfortable in the chaos of a city. There were too many cats, and the monsters’ roars and snarls as they chugged down the thunderpaths hurt her ears, and she always had to keep both eyes peeled for roaming twolegs. But the raves? The raves made it all worth it.

Starlight sang, of course. Wildstep watched, and danced. There were other raves, but she thought they must not be worth going to. Other cats lined up to come to see Starlight’s band perform, and on more than one occasion Bigwumps had to turn cats away at the entrance, since there simply wasn’t any more room for another cat on the rooftop. 

Ever since their run-in with Birch, the first thing Wildstep looked at when meeting a new cat were their ears. Less than half of the cats she met had a sliced ear, especially among the younger cats. Still, there were enough to be noticeable.

She was surprised when she and Bigwumps ran into the food pile at the same time one night and she noticed his ear was sliced. The tom had always been so lively, she’d never thought to check. How had she missed it? It seemed so obvious now. It stood out like blood on snow.

As Bigwumps pawed a half-eaten cooked bird towards himself, he caught her eye. His whiskers twitched in amusement. “You okay, Rags? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um,” she hesitated, then motioned to his ear. “I was just wondering about your ear.”

“Oh, this?” Bigwumps flicked his sliced ear. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Were you abducted by twolegs?” She asked, leaning forward.

“Sure,” he answered. He sat down and wrapped his large dark gray tail around his paws. “Though it’s not as exciting as all that, so don’t get your fur in a twist. I was minding my own business one day when I thought I smelled some fresh meat, so I followed the smell, and the next thing I knew I was in an upwalker trap. Eventually some upwalkers came and carried my trap away, and they did something to me that made me sleepy. After I woke up, they brought me back to where they had taken me and let me go.” He flicked his ear again. “Honestly, the most annoying part was that I couldn’t tell anyone where I was going. I heard that Terry was frantic, trying to fill my post at the rave that night. Wish I coulda been there to see it.” He purred at the memory.

Wildstep stiffened. “You sound so casual about the whole thing.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal, really.”

“You really don’t mind, not being able to have kits?”

“Not really. I don’t have a mate, what with being so busy with the raves and all, but I could probably find a family if I really wanted to. Adopt or something. Besides, the upwalkers also made it so I can’t catch certain diseases. I don’t speak poorly of ‘em because you an’ Starlight are big fans, but honestly, the guardian cats kind of freak me out. They look at me like I’m already dead, half the time. I’d much rather not see them if I can.”

At the tom’s deep meow, Wildstep’s racing mind settle. She still didn’t like the idea of being abducted by twolegs, and the thought of it happening to her made her shudder. But maybe, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe the twolegs really were just helping them out in whatever way they could.

Maybe in the city creatures of all kinds look out for each other.

Bigwumps stood up and stretched his hind leg out behind him. “Well, I should bring this back to my post. Nice talking to ya. I won’t hold you back from your dancing any longer.”

Wildstep nodded, watching silently as he carried his cooked twoleg bird back to his spot. She turned back towards the music. At night, she can dance, and she can forget the things she’s done in the past. Trapped between the crowd and the music, and Starlight’s haunting voice, sink into her bones, and she becomes free.

Every seventh morning, the pointed twoleg den the guardian cats lived under came alive. Masses of twolegs poured inside, and they made their own twoleg music all morning. This was the only time the cats didn’t play their own music.

The first time it happened, Wildstep had been entranced. She listened to the music all morning, and when it had finished, she felt it had ended too soon. “What was that?” she demanded. Starlight wasn’t there, as she slept with her band with the other rave cats, so she directed her question at the nearest guardian cat.

Chubby turned her round orange eyes on her and frowned. “S’music,” she answered. “Thought you knew what that was. Unless you’re doing somethin’ else with Starlight every night. Huh.”

Wildstep shook her head. “I _know_ it was music,” she protested, ignoring the older molly’s pointed comment and the nagging voice at the back of her head that pointed out the deaf molly was the last cat she should have asked. “But why are they doing it here? Why now? It sounds so different than the music the twolegs play at the raves.”

“S’there special twoleg music,” Chubby grunted. “Makes ‘em feel good, I guess.”

Despite her wheedling, none of the other cats could give her any more explanation than Chubby. Still, she couldn’t shake her fascination, and she made sure to listen to the entire music every seventh morning. One time, she jumped onto a window to peer inside, hoping it would answer some of her questions, but to her disappointment all she saw were groups of twolegs sitting in rows and singing their haunting music.

She still liked Starlight’s music best, she decided, and the twoleg rave music was fine. But something about this music calmed her racing heart in a way no other music could. Starlight’s music helped her forget her problems. But this music? With this music, she could sit and remember what it was to simply exist.

Days stretched into moons, and Wildstep quickly lost count of how much time she had spent in the city. The days grew longer, and soon the trees that lined some of the streets, and the flowers that grew in small flower boxes outside of twoleg dens bloomed and wilted again. The air grew warm, and the raves continued deep into the night.

It was easy to lose time with Starlight, when every day was an adventure. After a while, Wildstep stopped worrying about him, and stopped worrying about her old Clan life. She lived here, in the city. Maybe she could finally settle down. Certainly she enjoyed spending time at the raves, and she couldn’t do that anywhere else.

She padded after Starlight up the rickety platform as the sun stained the sky a deep orange, carrying a freshly killed mouse by the tail. She navigated the platform with ease, now, and took the steps three at a time as she leapt up. The warm city air clung to her fur, and she panted around her prey by the time she got to the top of the roof. It was the height of Green-leaf, now, though she supposed it probably wasn’t called that here. There weren’t enough trees in the city to mark the seasons by their leaves.

Bigwumps nodded as she and Starlight approached the entrance. “Good to see you, as always,” he rumbled. His eyes widened as he saw Wildstep’s payment. “Is that a mouse?”

“Freshly killed,” Starlight boasted. “You should see her in action. She’s a killing machine.”

“I’d hate to see you mad.” Bigwumps twitched his whiskers. “You two go on ahead, then.”

After dropping off her mouse, Wildstep helped Starlight’s band get set up. She didn’t help much, really, besides listen and offer a second opinion if their instruments were in-tune, but Starlight always insisted it was a big help, so she kept doing it.

When the rave started, Wildstep forced herself into the middle of the crowd, losing herself into the music. The rhythm washed over her, and for a few glorious heartbeats, she wasn’t a lost mother who left behind her kits and the only family she’s ever known.

The moment passed too quickly for her liking. As the band finished their last song of the night, She made her way to the edge of the roof for some fresh air away from the swarm of cats. She hops up onto the ledge, overlooking the city. Twoleg dens were let up all over the city, creating their own sparkling light, like stars.

 _It’s like all of the creatures that live here make their own StarClan_ , she thought. _T_ _hey make their own fates._

“Hey, Rags,” A gruff meow called out to her. She turned around, tail curling around her white paws as a ginger-and-white tom with a bushy gray tail padded towards her. “I found some newcomers. They say they’re wanderers, too. Figured you’d want to show them the ropes, tell them what’s what.”

“Oh. Sure.” Wildstep leapt back down as Bigwumps motioned to two cats at his heels. One was a skinny white tom, with pale orange paws, tail, and face, and eyes the same smoky gray as Starlight’s. The other was a long-furred silver tabby tom, with large, round yellow eyes.

“Introduce yourselves,” Bigwumps meowed. He padded back to the entrance, not bothering to ask if the newcomers had any other questions. Wildstep twitched her whiskers, amused.

“Thanks, Wump!” The silvery tom called out at his retreating form, clearly unbothered by his lack of manners.

The skinny white tom turned his gaze on her. “So, you’re Rags.”

“Uh, sure.” Every cat here called her Rags, but sometimes it still caught her off guard; in her mind she still thought of herself as Wildstep. “And you are?”

“I’m Fey,” the white told meowed. “And this is my mate, Moe.”

At his name, the silvery tom dipped his head respectfully. “Pleasure to meet you, Rags. Is that a kittypet name?” he asked respectfully.

“No,” Wildstep hedged, reluctant to explain her whole nickname situation after going with the guise for so long. “I’m a wanderer, same as you. Though I guess I’ve been here for a while, now.” As she spoke, she felt the familiar tug in her paws to get up and get moving. Her fur prickled, and she berated herself. He wasn’t following her, and he certainly wouldn’t ambush her here, at a party. She was safe at the raves. She was anonymous among the crowd. “Those are nice names,” Wildstep meowed, because she wasn’t sure what else to say. “Strong names.”

Moe glanced behind him before meowing. “Better than Bigwumps, that’s for sure.” He giggled. Fey batted at his mate’s ear with his paw, but his whiskers twitched in amusement and he clearly wasn’t angry.

“Aw, don’t insult our dear friend Mr. Wump!” Starlight called out, leaping into the circle. Her tail flicked back and forth with excitement. “Rags, you didn’t tell me you had made new friends!”

“Bigwumps just introduced us. Starlight, this is Moe and Fey. Moe and Fey, this is my friend, Starlight. She’s the singer in the band. Where did you two come from?” She stared at Moe as she spoke. Something about his silver fur and large yellow eyes seemed so familiar, but she just couldn’t put her paw on it.

“We came from the direction where the sun rises,” Moe told her. “But we’ve wandered all around. We were headed towards the setting sun, in the direction of the sundrown place, when we heard the rumors about the raves and had to make a detour. we heard that yours was the best and had to see for yourselves.”

“Sure is!” Starlight’s whiskers dropped as she added, “You arrived just as I finished! What a shame. I hope you’ll be able to stay for tomorrow’s performance! It’ll be a blast.” She leaned against Wildstep, throwing her tail over her shouldours amicably.

“Of course we will!” meowed Moe. “We’ll stay for a few days, to get the whole experience. We’re staying until the Night of Colored Stars.”

“Night of Colored Stars?” Wildstep asked. The name surfaced old memories of their brief stay with the kittypet Maudlin. Hadn’t they mentioned something like that?

“Did I forget to tell you?” Starlight asked. “How silly of me! The Night of Colored Stars happens just after the longest day. The upwalkers shoot colored stars up into the air! It’s a fantastic sight. You’ll love it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Moe promised.

Fey cleared his throat and dipped his head. “sorry to interrupt. Where is the water bowl? We’ve been traveling all day, and I’d love something to drink.”

“Oh. Of course,” Wildstep meowed. “It’s just over there. The food pile’s next to it. The twoleg music will start soon. Feel free to ask if you need anything else from me.”

“Of course.” Fey padded away, his mate happily following behind, tail raised high in the air.

WIldstep watched them go, feeling strangely sad. She had wanted to talk to that silvery tom more. Why did he look so familiar?

Wildstep shook her head as her friend started to speak. She’s seen so many silver toms during her wanderings. She’s probably just mixing him up with somecat else. Certainly she’s never met another silver tom named Moe before; she’d remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus second weekly chapter, to celebrate me officially finishing the draft for this story! Huzzah! It still needs to be revised, but it currently clocks in at 9 chapters (plus an allegiance, which I'll post at the end). I've been trying to avoid using the same artist twice for lyrics, but this was a mistake because Florence just has the perfect song for every moment! 
> 
> I'm honestly not sure how common sliced ears are to mark a TNR'd cat, but I've seen it in some places while traveling and I thought it was clever, so I'm using it here. (Plus, you know, symbolism and stuff.) 
> 
> Hmm, I wonder who this new cat could possibly be? :thinking emoji:


	6. growing on me

> We could be the king and queen if you want to
> 
> We could find a getaway if you need to
> 
> I do it all for you
> 
> I do it all of you
> 
> -Lotus, Galdive

* * *

The longest day of the year came and went, and Starlight waited with growing anticipation for the Night of Colored Stars. “It’s coming,” she told Wildstep. “Soon.”

Wildstep frowned and turned her gaze back to the skyline overlooking the city. The oppressive humidity clung to her and weighed her down, but as the sun sank lower in the sky, a calming breeze ruffled her fur and kissed her nose.

They were on top of the roof, waiting to see if tonight was the night. Moe and Fey were nearby, helping Bigwumps set up the water bowl for the rave. Starlight’s band members lounged about nearby, and one of them had caught Terry, the rave host, up in a story that had the older molly in fits. None of the cats were in any particular hurry; if they caught wind that the Night of Colored Stars was tonight, they would have to cancel tonight’s music even anyways.

Wildstep didn’t understand that last part, but Starlight assured her that the Night of Colored Stars was so loud it could block out even the loudest music. She doubted that, but humored the black molly all the same.

Starlight had been lounging on the ledge next to Wildstep, her chin resting on the edge and her tail draped over the side. As Wildstep glanced at her, she frowned. “Hey.”

Starlight glanced at her, silver eyes surprisingly calm and relaxed. “What?”

“You have a spot on your paw.”

“So?”

“You didn’t have a spot there yesterday.”

Starlight purred. “Aww, and you noticed? Are you staring obsessively at my paws because you want to hold them? You only had to ask. I didn’t realize you were so filled to the brim with gay yearning.”

Wildstep ignored the heat rising to her ears. “Shut up. Why do you have an extra spot on your paw?”

Starlight flicked her tail. “Why do I have spots at all? They just appear.”

Huh. “You mean you were born all black?”

“Except for my muzzle,” Starlight meowed. Wildstep was about to ask another question when she sat up, bending over and staring at the ground. “Look! It’s Chomper!” she called out.

Wildstep peaked over her shoulder. The distant tinkling of a bell danced through the air as she spotted a round, blue-gray tabby loping their way. His bright red kittypet collar stood out starkly against his freshly groomed pelt.

“Chomper, ahoy,” rumbled Bigwumps. He hopped up the ledge onto the platform and started to snake down the ledges to meet him on the ground. Starlight bounded after him, and well, at this point Wildstep had to follow. Mo, Feather, and the rest of the cats stayed behind, watching with interest.

Chompers was heaving to catch his breath in the alley as Starlight and Wildstep caught up to him. Bigwumps paced back and forth, tail flicking with agitation. “Well?” he demanded.

“Give the poor cat some space to breathe,” chided Starlight. But she, too, couldn’t take her eager stare off of him.

Chompers swallowed thickly. He raised his chin and stuck out his fluffy chest fur. He did not, Wildstep noticed, have a sliced ear, even though as a kittypet he almost certainly had gone through the same twoleg magic that the feral cats with sliced ears had. “I saw my twolegs take out the sparkling star sticks today,” he announced. “I checked with my other kittypet friends, and they’ve seen the same.”

“So it’s tonight?” asked Starlight, leaning forward.

“It’s tonight,” Chompers intoned somberly.

Starlight bounced on her toes. “yay!” She barreled into Wildstep and swung around her in a circle. “The Night of Colored Stars is tonight! You’re going to love it! Our city has the best celebration in the world, you’ll see!” As quickly as she came down, she raced back up the platforms and onto the roof.

Bigwumps nodded at Chompers. “Thanks for letting us know. Will I see you tonight?”

“If I can sneak out,” Chompers ran his paw behind his ear, looking bashful. “I’m not as young as I used to, and it’s getting harder and harder to sneak out when my twolegs aren’t looking. You’re lucky I got to you today. I almost had to send Franky instead.”

“Oh, anything but Franky,” Bigwumps meowed, his tone so deadpan Wildstep was unsure if he was joking or not.

Chompers nodded earnestly. “The kit’s too big for his own fur. If I had sent him out on an important mission like this, you’d never hear the end of it.”

By the time Wildstep made it back up to the roof, the others were chattering in excitement. Mo’s fur was fluffed up, and he kept twining his tail with Feather’s, purring heartily. He glanced at Wildstep, round yellow eyes shining, and she felt that familiar twinge she did every time she looked at him. Why did he look so familiar? And if he looked so familiar, why couldn’t she remember where she’d met him before?

Terry, Bigwumps, and some of the band members left to spread the word so that cats knew there wouldn’t be a rave tonight. Wildstep missed the music, and her paws itched to dance. But Starlight had promised that the twolegs would still have their rave after the colored stars have gone off, so she simply had to wait.

And wait.

Even though there wasn’t a rave, cats packed onto the roof that night. Loners, gang cats, kittypets, and even a few of the guardian cats all squeezed together, more than she had ever seen before. She could spy neighboring cats scattered throughout the neighboring roofs, too, but there's was the highest in this area that was accessible those twoleg-made woven tendril platforms, so it was the most crowded. Cats called out as they found old friends, and a few even tried to share tongues in the cramped space they could eek out for themselves. From her vantage point up on the ledge with Starlight, Mo, and Fey, she glimpsed Chompers in the back of the crowd, shielding his head from a young tom trying to climb on top him.

As the sky darkened, a hush fell over the gathered cats, and Starlight turned her head towards the sky. Sandwiched between the black molly and Mo, she felt as if anything could happen.

“Is it starting?” Mo asked, leaning forward.

Fey pressed his paw against Mo’s chest, gently holding him back. “Careful,” he meowed quietly. "I'd hate to see you fall."

Mo settled back, wrapping his tail around his mate’s before turning his gaze back up to the sky.

“There!” Starlight cried out, ears angling forward.

A fizz crackled through the air, and then then the sky split with a peal of lightning. A bolt of lightning unlike anything she had ever seen before unfurled in the sky, raining down in a peal of red petals.

Wildstep shrank back at the loud noise, but around her cats cried out in awe at the pretty lights. She blinked, trying not to wince as another strange bolt of lightning unfurled, this time screaming as it spiraled into the air before popping into a small yellow bloom. Several more followed at once, creating a racket so loud she struggled to think.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Starlight called out, eyes glowing.

“ _This_ is the colored stars?” she asked, whiskers twitching. Another star bloomed in the sky, and even though the noise raked against her ears, she had to admit that they were rather pretty. “The twolegs make these? Why?”

“Who knows?” Starlight meowed, her voice and facial cues distorted from the loud bangs and flashing lights up above. “They set them off every year. Maybe it’s a sendoff to the sun as the days grow shorter as we approach the cold season.”

Wildstep could appreciate that. Back in ShadowClan, the lengthening of the days was always greeted with joy, even as the days grew colder. The longer nights meant more time for them to be in their element. To respect the other Clans, they performed most of their business during the day, at the same time as the others, but a ShadowClan cat always felt the most at home at night, among the dark, obfuscating shadows of the pine forests.

She glanced to her other side. Mo stared at the blooming stars in the sky, transfixed as they bloomed overhead. Over his shoulder, she caught the eye of his mate, who had also been watching him fondly. He nodded at her before pressing his nose against the silvery tom’s thick mane of fur.

Watching him, she was filled with an intense urge to press her nose into his fur once more—

Wait. What?

She stared at Mo, frowning. His yellow eyes remained transfixed at the sky overhead, oblivious to her staring.

His large, curious yellow eyes, which glowed on his silvery fur…

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She brushed her tail against his side and drank in his scent. It was so different from his soft, milky kit-scent, but underneath the stench of dirt and twoleg rotfood, she recognized the all-too-familiar scent of home.

Smokeheart broke out of his trance to stare back at her, eyes wide in confusion.

She leaned in, eager to be heard over the loud stars overhead.

“Smokekit…?”

He stared. His eyes grew round with confusion and awe as he whispered, “Mom?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart bursting like the sky above, “Yes, my darling kit, it’s me.”

* * *

The rest of the night passed in a blur. But the Night of Colored Stars, in all of its glory, paled in comparison to finding her kit, her family, here out of the entire world. It was all she could think about, and her mind buzzed with excitement.

Her kit! Here! With her! What were the odds? She almost thanked StarClan for bringing them back together, before remembering that StarClan lost interest in her long ago. They don’t entertain themselves with the lives of rogues and loners.

She could’ve stayed up all night talking to him and reassuring herself that this is real and she’s not dreaming, but eventually the colored stars stopped rising into the night sky, and the other cats on the rooftop started to disperse.

“We should go,” Fey meowed as he padded up to join his mate, twining his tail around his mate’s as he spoke. “We’ve had a long, busy day, and we’re tired.” he yawned, as if to prove his point.

“I suppose,” Moe meowed, though he didn’t sound thrilled about the idea.

Wildstep blinked at her son. “Are Wump and Terry treating you well?” At Starlight’s recommendation, Moe and Fey had been staying with Bigwumps, Terry, and the other rooftop guards, acting as temporary guards in exchange. This gave them some protection and allowed them to explore the city without worrying about getting jumped by overly excited gang cats like Clank and Gear.

“Of course. They’re the perfect hosts,” Fey assured her.

“We better get going,” Moe meowed. He pressed his muzzle against WIldstep’s, a deep purr rising from his throat. “But I’ll see you in the morning. I promise.”

“Good night,” Wildstep whispered, trying to fight down pangs of abandonment as she watched them leave.

The rest of the cats filtered out, and it was just her and Starlight, now. “You going to be okay?” Starlight asked, her voice soft. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I have,” Wildstep murmured. “But you saw him too, right? You heard him say that he was my son?”

“Every word,” Starlight assured her. She pressed herself against Wildstep’s spiky ginger fur. “Hey, Rags. I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good sign,” Wildstep mewed, ducking as Starlight purred and tried to bat at her ears with her paw.

“Stupid furball,” she teased. Growing serious again, she continued. “But seriously. I was wondering if you’d be interested in learning how to play an instrument sometime.”

Wildstep’s ears perked forward. “Really?” she asked. “What made you think that?”

“Well, our band’s scratcher is getting antsy. I think she wants to leave soon, maybe become a wanderer. There are plenty of cats who’d kill to take her spot, of course, but we want to make sure that our new scratcher has a good vibe, you know? They need to get what we’re getting at.”

Wildstep nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

“I thought I could teach you, and if you like it, you could replace her!” Starlight purred. “I know you already get along great with me, and you don’t know the others too well, but I think you’d like them if you talked to them! Our beater, Minnie, is a hoot! She tells the funniest stories. And our plucker, Tybalt? Well, he’s a little quiet, but he’s a riot once he warms up to you. And-“

Wildstep raised her tail, silencing Starlight. “You’re asking me if I want to stay here. Forever,” she put bluntly.

Starlight’s jaw snapped shut, and she stretched her silvery eyes wide in surprise. “Oh, um—”

“I don’t know, Starlight,” she sighed. “I’ve enjoyed my time here. But I left my old home over a year ago. Is the city where I want to live forever? Am I ready to settle down again? I don’t know.”

Starlight leaned close. She pressed her nose in between Wildstep’s forehead. “Think about it,” she told her. “And let me know. There’s no rush. I know Theodosia _says_ she’s going to leave soon, but knowing her, the cold season will begin before she commits to anything.”

“Okay,” Wildstep meowed quietly. When she didn’t say anything more, Starlight padded away.

* * *

“My full name is Smokeheart,” he told her the next morning, as they curled up together in a small grassy patch in one of the city’s few parks, a few freshly killed mice at their paws. “It’s still my name. But we use nicknames because they’re less distracting.” He purred in amusement. “I’m sure you know how often cats will point out that Clan names are weird. My mate’s name is Featherflight. He was a WindClan cat, before we left.”

“Featherflight,” she repeated. She never gave much thought to how odd non-Clan cats found their names, but after so long without hearing any Clan name but her own, the tom’s name gave her pause. “Huh. But that’s the same thing twice.”

Smokeheart (Smoke _heart_! He had a warrior name! Her kit was a warrior!) purred even harder. “That’s funny. Mothfall said the same thing.”

“Mothfall?” she asked. “Is that my darling Mothkit?”

Smokeheart nodded. “And Ferntooth. Mothfall had a disability that made it hard for her to move. She tripped a lot and had bad coordination. She had a delayed warrior ceremony because of it, and had just received her warrior name when I had left.”

“When was that?”

Smokeheart’s whiskers twitched. “Almost a year ago, I think. It’s hard to say; time doesn’t have the same meaning when you’re not a part of a Clan.”

She nodded, understanding; inside the Clans, it had always felt like time was of the utmost importance: kits become apprentices at six moons; apprentices become warriors at one year; the Clans meet every full moon and the medicine cats every half-moon; patrols must go out at dawn, sunhigh, sunset, and moonhigh.

But freed from the shackles of Clan life, time had very little meaning. cats ate, gathered, and slept as they pleased. The only real pattern was the pointed twoleg den’s singing every seventh day. Even the bands held little structure; Starlight and her band held raves most nights, except for when they didn’t, and they started whenever they felt like enough cats had gathered and played until they felt they were done.

"I'm sorry my kit had to suffer like that," she murmured, thinking of the last time she had seen Mothfall, curled up at her belly as a kit. It was hard to imagine her, or her sister Ferntooth, as a fully grown warrior. "I had always noticed she was a bit clumsy, but I never thought much of it." Her heart twisted. Would she had had a delayed ceremony if her mother had been more attentive and noticed something was wrong? Would she had been given a disability at all if she had had a different mother? Did Wildstep have bad blood she passed onto her daughter, or had StarClan cursed her because her mother had been thinking of leaving, even before her litter was born, and they decided to punish one of her kits in return? 

Smokeheart nuzzled her. "She never thought less of herself for it, or wish she had been born any other way."

She sighed, and the tension drained out of her shoulders. “Tell me more,” she meowed. “I want to know everything.”

Smokeheart’s eyes softened as he recalled fond memories. “Ferntooth is a wonderful cat,” he told her. “She’s smart, and funny, and a great hunter. She can be so rash - did you know she got scars before she even became a warrior? She played so rough when we trained that she got scratched up!" he purred at the memory. "She has two mates, Beelight and Troutpath. They were so fond of each other. I hope they have a family by now. they never stopped talking about how badly they wanted one.”

Wildstep purred. A part of her had always been scared that by abandoning her kits, she had scarred them for life and they would never know love. But Smokeheart had found a wonderful tom, and Ferntooth had so much love, not for one mate, but two! “What about Mothfall?”

He shook his head. "I don't think Mothfall liked anycat in that way. I don't think she could. But she had friends, and she was a great warrior. You’d like her, Mom. I wish I could tell her that you were here. I told her that I didn’t think you were dead, that you had discovered Clan life was wrong and had run away, but she had never seemed as certain as me. She’s stubborn, and loud when she wants to be – she talked back to Berrystar, did you know? Berrystar didn’t want to take her to the gathering after she gained her warrior name because she thought Mothfall's disability made the Clan look bad, and Mothfall called her out for it in front of the entire Clan.”

She purred. “She sounds like a lovely cat.”

“She was,” Smokeheart agreed. His ears flattened against his head and he looked down at his paws. “Where have you been? Why did you leave?”

Her heart panged. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you thought I was dead for all of these moons. I couldn’t stay in the Clans anymore. It was suffocating. I was slowly drowning, and I would have died if I had stayed there any longer.”

She blinked at her son and pressed her nose into his thick mane of fur. “Are you mad at me for leaving?” Her heart quickened, and her thoughts started to race, fearing that she had been reunited with her son only for him to hate her for what she had done. And who was she to tell him he was wrong? Would any child hate their parent for abandoning them?

Smokeheart stared at her for a heartbeat that stretched into eternity. “No,” he answered at last. “I’m not. I was, once, but that was moons ago. It was the same for me and Featherflight. We were never warriors. We could never support the violence that the Clan upholds. So we left. And I found you!” he brightened up. “Oh, stars, I wish Mothfall and Ferntooth knew about this.”

“Let’s not think about that,” soothed Wildstep. “Let’s focus on here, and now.”

He studied her. “You know, I wonder why I came out looking the way I did. Ferntooth looks almost identical to you, except she doesn’t have the same white belly or paws, and Mothfall has Dad’s long legs, but your stocky build and fur color. But neither you or Dad look like me. I know, logically, that you were always ginger, but you had gone when I was so little… sometimes I wondered if my memory was wrong, and you were actually silver.”

At the mention of his father, her hearing buzzed, and her paws clenched into the ground. She’d gone so long without thinking of his name. Sometimes she could conjure his face without her heart palpitating. But here, now, hearing her son talk about him so casually, it all came rushing back. For a heartbeat, she was back in ShadowClan, waiting with baited breath as she strained her ears and nose, praying to StarClan that the snapping stick she had just heard outside the nursery was a Clanmate going to make dirt, and not her mate checking in on her in the one spot where she could find respite.

Her _mate_.

Something touched her paw, and she jumped, jerking her paw back and underneath her body. She blinked, flinching as yellow eyes filled her vision.

“Mom?”

She blinked again, and the beady, piercing eyes of her mind cleared into the large, soft yellow eyes of Smokeheart. He was staring intently at her, his paw reaching towards her as if he wanted to comfort her, but was afraid to touch her. “You okay? You zoned out pretty hard there.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, harsher than she meant. She flicked her ear, and added, “Really. Sorry to scare you. But I think your—your father,” she hated saying the word, but it was better than speaking his name, “Had a sister who was a silver tabby. Or maybe it was an aunt. It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head of the memory, trying not to visibly shudder as the thought of him chilled her bones. “But look! We have the same paws.” She held her paws next to his, showing him that they had the same large, flat paws, both calloused and roughened from moons of wandering. “We’d have to look in a puddle to be sure, but I think we have the same square muzzles, too. You certainly didn’t get that from your father. Everything about him is so pointy.”

Smokeheart's expression lightened, and he smiled. “That’s good to know.” He leaned forward and pressed his face into her side. “I’m glad you recognized me when you did. We have to spend as much time as we can together, before I leave.”

“Leave?” Wildstep pulled back, shocked. “But you just got here.”

“But we’re wanderers.” Smokeheart tilted his head. “I thought you knew. We don’t stay in one place for long,” Smokeheart meowed. “It’s what we do. It’s what you did, too, I thought.” His gaze softened, and he blinked at her. “Are you still wandering? Do you want to come with us?”

She felt chilled. Leave the city? “I don’t know...”

“I understand,” he meowed quietly. “Think about it. Let me know.”

* * *

She and Starlight are rooting through the trash. Smokeheart and Featherflgiht were staying with Terry and Bigwumps as temporary roof rave guards; Smokeheart had made a passing comment that Terry’s den was drafty at night, and she wanted to find a twoleg pelt to keep him warm.

She and starling had been rooting in a cramped alley behind a large twoleg den on the edges of Blue’s section when Starlight lifted her head, nose twitching.

“What is it?”

“Upwalkers,” Starlight answered. “And I don’t like the smell of ‘em, either. We should hide.”

They dived behind a pile of twoleg trash. Starlight had to press her large ears against her head so they didn’t stick out above the pile, and Wildstep prayed that her bright red fur wouldn’t stand out. At least Starlight, with her mostly black fur, blended in with the black skins the twolegs liked to put their trash in.

They stuck their heads out to peek as a twoleg carrying something blocky and square stepped into the alley. Something inside the block yowled, and the twoleg made a soft clucking noise. It set the block down and opened a door on the side. For a tense heartbeat, nothing happened.

A cat-shaped figure sped out of the box and towards Wildstep and Starlight’s hiding place. She tensed, fearing they would be found out, but the cat stopped at the bottom of the pile and turned around to face the twoleg.

The twoleg made a pleased noise and turned around and walked out of the alley, still carrying its box.

As soon as it disappeared, Starlight wiggled out of their hiding place. “Hey!”

The cat turned to face them. She was a dilute tortoiseshell-and-white cat, and the tip of one of her ears had been clipped straight off. Starlight bounced over to her, tail waving eagerly. “Hello!” she chirped. “What was that – wait just a heartbeat. Cheddar?”

The molly tilted her head, frowning. Then she blinked and started to purr. “Starlight! I’m glad the first face I’m seeing is a friendly one.”

Satisfied that they weren’t in any danger, Wildstep started to crawl out from her hiding place as Starlight purred and rubbed her face against the molly.

“What happened, Cheddar?” Starlight asked. “I heard you were abducted.”

“I was!” Cheddar meowed. “An upwalker captured me and held me in its den! I had to have my kits there!”

“That must have been horrible!”

“It was!” she agreed. “But it wasn’t as bad as you might think. The upwalkers were actually quite nice, except for that they wouldn’t let me go. They fed me and kept me warm. I had my kittens there, and they allowed me to nurse and take care of them!”

“Where are they now?” asked Wildstep, hopping onto the ground next to Starlight.

“Oh, they took them,” Cheddar answered easily.

Wildstep’s fur bushed out. She pressed against Starlight. “They stole your kits?” she asked.

“It wasn’t as bad as all of that,” Cheddar assured her. “Like I said, I was allowed to nurse them and bond with them. I know they went to good upwalker homes, and they’ll be in good paws. All they know are upwalker, and they were excited to find their own homes!” she purred. “I’m happy for them. But my home is here, in the city.”

“Why would you let them do that?” Wildstep couldn’t shake the ice gripping her heart. “That sounds horrible!”

“Like I said, I was well taken care of,” Cheddar shrugged. “I would have been fending for myself if they hadn’t come along. The gave me a cut, and I don’t think I can have more kittens.” For the first time, she frowned, as if she was just realizing the permanence of her situation. But a heartbeat later she picked herself back up, adding, “But in return, they did their upwalker magic on me, and now I won’t get sick!”

“Really?” Starlight asked, sounding impressed. “Nice.”

Wildstep’s fur bushed out, and she stared, unable to speak. She thought she had come to terms with not being able to have more kittens. After she had talked with Bigwumps about his own experiences with the twolegs and their magic, she hadn’t given it much thought. But now that Smokeheart was here, her fears came crashing down around her again. What if they were captured by twolegs? Would they take her son away from her, never to be seen again?

Cheddar grunted. She gave Wildstep a strange glance before adding, “I’m going to go now. Blue must be wondering where I’ve been gone! I need to find my friends and let them know that I’m alive!”

“Go well!” Starlight called after her as she padded down the alleyway. “I’ll be sure to pass the word along.”

Starlight turned back around to look at Wildstep. “Hey, are you okay? You look pretty spooked.”

Wildstep shook her head. “Just imagining,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I had been in her situation when I’d had my kits.”

“About the same, I imagine,” Starlight meowed. “It’s not like you have much choice once you’re inside a upwalker den. Besides, they’d let you out eventually.” She flicked her tail, unconcerned.

It felt like just yesterday that she had heard about Cheddar’s abduction. Had it really been long enough for Cheddar to give birth and wean her kits?

The weight of the decision she had to make weighed down on her, and she finally realized the importance of the choice she had to make.

If she stayed, she got to keep music, the one thing that makes her feel safe and forget her troubles. If she left, she got to keep her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dramaaaaa! Did you guess the identity of the silver cat correctly? :P 
> 
> Gotta love how Smokeheart is like *long, intense ramblings about his sisters, even though they aren't relevant to the plot*
> 
> The concept of the Night of Colored Stars is another concept I must give credit to Stormikat for creating! I believe in her story, the Night of Colored Stars was new years, not the fourth of july, but it's a similar concept. (I suppose my warriors cats 'verse now canonically takes place in the US now, haha.)


	7. been dreamlessly sleepin' for years

> I wish I could show you more of yourself
> 
> I wish I could make you somebody else
> 
> But I left it way too late
> 
> Are you stuck in your own ways?
> 
> -Tangerine, Glass Animals

* * *

She hovered in the small grassy lawn outside of the pointed twoleg den. The twolegs were singing. Her tail flicked as she listened, and thought. Smokeheart and Featherflight were off exploring the city on their own. She had asked them to stay and listen to the music with her, but they had politely declined. Her heart wrenched with anxiety, terrified that she’d lose her son and the next time she saw him, he’d have that slice in his ear, but he was old enough to make his own decisions now, and he’d done just fine before he met her. She let him go, but not before making him promise to be careful and to see her tonight at the rave.

“You look pensive.”

She jumped, startled. Turning around, she came face to face with Starlight, her bright white muzzle almost touching her own white muzzle. She pulled back, her spiky ginger fur ruffled with unease.

“What’s up?” Starlight sat down, wrapping her long tail against her slender black legs. “Chubby told me that you were tossing and turning all night long. She barely slept a wink.”

She wondered briefly if Chubby offered this information, or if Starlight had bribed it out of her with the promise of a tasty meal. It didn’t matter, she supposed. It was one of Starlight’s habits, for better or for worse: she always knew everything that was going on. 

She motioned to the pointed twoleg den. “I was just listening to the music.”

“And?”

“And thinking. About your offer.”

“Oh?” Starlight’s whiskers twitched, and her silver eyes stretched wide. “Have you come to a decision, then?”

“I have.”

“Great!” Starlight bounced to her paws. “That’s so exciting! Oh, Rags, this will be so much fun. You’ll be a great scratcher, I just know it! We can start your lessons tomorrow, I can get—”

“Starlight.” She looked her friend in the eye. “I’m not staying.”

Starlight’s tail dropped against the ground. “You’re not?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She looked at her paws. “I’m a wanderer. I need to wander.” Her fur itched, and she shuddered under the all-too-familiar creeping feeling that he was watching her. She’d been in one place for too long. She had to leave.

“B-but you’ve stayed here for so long… I just thought…”

“I’m sorry.”

“What about music? What about our adventures? We still haven’t explored most of Blue’s section.”

“I’ll miss the music,” she admitted. “but…”

“But?”

“What if you came with me?”

“What?” Starlight’s fur bushed out, and she stared in disbelief. “Me? Leave the city?”

“Think about it,” Wildstep argued. “We could still explore together. You could bring music to the cats outside the city. I would still dance for your music.”

“Why would I want to leave the city?” Starlight argued. “I know every cat here. I know every nook and cranny. Cats love me here. If I left, I would have to start over from scratch.”

“But if you left, you could stay with me.”

Starlight growled. “Is that it? Are you alone equal to the rest of the cats in this city? Are you alone equal to the space I have created for myself here? I have a job, Rags. I can’t just abandon that.”

“You play music. You can do that anywhere.”

“It’s not the same and you know it. Why am I supposed to leave the only home I’ve ever known when you won’t even consider staying here with me?”

“I can’t stay,” wildstep pleaded. “I have to keep moving, or—” she couldn’t finish the thought.

“You never told me anything about where you came from. You didn’t tell me you had kits. I didn’t even know you had a mate,” Starlight spat. Her gaze softened, and she looked, for the first time, not angry, but so hurt that it made Wildstep’s claws ache as if she had physically struck her friend. “You didn’t even tell me your real name. Any one of those I could have brushed aside, but all of them? Together? What am I supposed to think?”

Wildstep shook her head, unable to answer.

“Rags, are we even friends?”

Wildstep gaped. She didn’t know what to say. What could she possibly say to explain herself? _Sorry, Starlight, but I’m being chased by my ex-mate and I need to stay as far ahead of him as possible so he doesn’t catch me and bring me back to ShadowClan against my will? That ShadowClan is a prison and I suffocated there? That yes, I know this is an illogical fear, but that doesn’t make it feel any less real when I try to close my eyes at night and can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching me, just out of sight?_

She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she meowed. “I guess it has to be this way.”

“Guess so,” Starlight spat, stalking away.

* * *

She almost didn’t go to the rave that night. The thought of facing Starlight again made her fur crawl. Had she done the right thing? (She couldn’t have stayed.) If she had a chance, would she do it again? (She _couldn’t_ have stayed.)

(Starlight couldn’t have left.)

By the time the sun started to dip below the large twoleg dens, she had made up her mind. She would go again, if just to apologize to her friend. And to say goodbye to everycat. After all, Who knows if she’d ever see them again?

Smokeheart and Featherflight met her at the top of the roof. Smokeheart’s eyes glimmered as he eyed her. “No present, I see?” he asked, meow light.

She hesitated, stepping backwards and eyeing her son. In truth, she had often brought more than her fair share of payment. She had expected Bigwumps to be at the entrance; he would have known and would have let her in. Truth be told, he probably would have let her in anyways. He was hard-pressed to turn away any cat in need, or any cat that he recognized, or any cat who asked politely if he could make an exception, just this once. 

In that respect, he was a terrible guard, but a wonderful cat.

Featherflight cut the tension short with a flick of his tail. “Don’t tease your mother like that. She looks like she’s never heard a joke in her life.”

Smokeheart’s eyes stretched wide. “Sorry!” He licked down his chest fur and flattened his ears against his head. “Featherflight and I joke around so often, I had forgotten that… Never mind.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had to socialize with so many other cats,” Featherflight told her.

She wasn’t sure if he was comforting herself or his mate. “It’s fine,” she assured her son, pressing her nose against his. “You’re fine. I’ll keep that in mind for when we’re traveling together.”

Smokeheart relaxed, a purr slipping out of his throat. “You’ll have fun. Promise. But enjoy the party for now.”

“I hope Wump doesn’t plan to abandon you to this post all night long,” she added, whiskers twitching in amusement besides herself.

“Me, too,” Smokeheart agreed. “He left us in charge while he went to grab a snack and some water. He’s still over there.” He angled his ears, and she followed them to Bigwumps. The orange-and-white tom was deep in a conversation with Starlight.

Her stomach flip-flopped. “Want me to tell him to come back? You can’t miss the dancing to playing guard.”

“Don’t worry,” Featherflight meowed. “we’ll make sure he comes back.” His dark eyes glittered, and he crouched into a position like he was going to hunt Bigwumps down like prey. Smokeheart burst out in peals of laughter, and even Wildstep couldn’t help but purr at the sight.

“I’ll see you two later, then.” She padded out onto the floor.

The floor was still empty, but soon enough more cats started to file in. The others couldn’t come quick enough, as far as she was concerned. The more cats between her and Starlight, the better. She kept trying to build up the courage to speak with her, but every time something held her back, like her paws were stuck in an invisible mud patch, and she couldn’t move.

Hunched up in her corner, she didn't dare make eye contact with anycat until she felt a familiar presence approach. She glanced up to see a large orange-and-white tom, his bushy gray tail whisking from side to side as he studied her. “What’s this I heard about you leaving?” Bigwumps asked.

She flicked her ear, trying not to feel scolded. “I’m leaving tomorrow. With my son.”

“So I heard. you weren’t going to tell me?” he rumbled. His whiskers twitched in amusement. “Word travels fast around here, you know. Half the city knows where you’re going by this point.”

“Yeah,” she murmured.

Bigwumps rolled his eyes, then leaned forward and pressed his cheek against hers. “We’ll miss having you around, wanderer,” he meowed. “Think I’ll ever see you again?”

She could only shrug, and after a heartbeat or two he purred and trotted away. To relieve Smokeheart and Featherflight of their duty, she hoped. She would hate for them to spend their last night among the music stuck on guard duty. She’d done it herself, once, when Bigwumps had become sick last minute from eating rotten twoleg food, and Terry didn’t have enough time to ask another roof rave host for a replacement. It had been nice, to hold a sense of power over who could and couldn’t enter, but she hated being forced to watch the dancing without being able to take part.

As darkness fell, Terry came to the front of the roof. The cats quieted in anticipation. “Are you ready for a roof rave?” the molly rasped. The gathered cats cheered, and she nodded to herself. “Good. Tonight’s a special night. As you probably know, our resident wanderer, Rags, is leaving us tomorrow. This her last rave.”

Murmurs of sadness rippled through the cats. She stared at her paws, uncomfortable as cats turned to stare at her.

“Make sure to say goodbye if you haven’t already. Also, and I can’t believe I have to say this, but please be considerate when drinking out of the bowl. We only have one and if you spill water everywhere, Bigwumps has to go and get more. Please, think of our poor roof guard when you drink water, and do _not_ —” she glared at one cat in the audience, and several others purred in amusement, “Splash it around like it’s your personal bath. Please enjoy the show.”

“She’s not much of a talker, is she?” a voice meowed behind her.

She tilted her head, smiling as she saw Smokeheart press up against her. “No. She’s wonderful at hosting, but terrible at talking.”

She stepped away, and Starlight came up. “Thank you, everycat. I want to take a moment to speak, if you’ll indulge me.”

“Speech, speech!” one cat yowled, until the cat next to him cuffed his ears and scolded him for speaking out of turn.

Starlight’s whiskers twitched as she continued. “As Terry mentioned, we’re saying goodbye to Rags tonight. She’s a very special cat. When I first met her, she was fighting off two of Blue’s gooneys – I won’t say who, but you all know who I'm talking about.” She flicked her tail, and Wildstep caught sight of Gear in the audience. He growled, but Clank put his paw on his side to calm him. Another cat sitting next to them, presumably another one of Blue’s cats, shook his head in amusement.

“Needless to say, I was impressed. Rags has impressed me a lot, actually. I dragged her along on all of my adventures, and she never complained once. I would even say she liked them. She made me look at the city in a new way, and I fell in love with it all over again. and my job here, all over again, every night when I found here dancing in the crowd.” She peered in the audience, squinting. “In fact, where are you, Rags? Come on up!”

She shrank back, but Smokeheart gave her a friendly nudge, and soon the other cats nearby were shoving her forward, and before she knew it she stood in front of Starlight once more. The white flecked cat studied her, and she scuffed her paw against the hard surface of the roof, self conscious of how frumpy her stocky body and spiky fur looked next to this slender, poised molly.

Starlight turned to gaze back to the crowd. “She’d never heard music before she came to the city, but you wouldn’t have known it from how she acted when the music came on. It was like she lived for it. Watching her come every night to dance, even in the beginning, when she didn’t know how to tell dancing from falling,” – some of the cats laughed, and she waited for them to settle down before continuing, “She danced her heart out every night. And she reminded me of our ancestor, Coonie, who brought music to us so many seasons ago. I’d like to think that all of us have a little bit of Coonie inside of us.” She turned to Wildstep. “But I also like to think my Rags has a little bit more than the rest of us.” She nodded. “I’ll miss her when she’s gone. So we're going to give her a sendoff we’ll never forget, right?”

Starlight pressed their noses together. As she did, cats in the crowd started to cheer.

Wildstep blinked as they pulled apart, her fur tingling. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, though she doubted the others would have heard over the clamor they were making anyways. “I shouldn’t have asked what I did. It was unfair.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Starlight meowed. “I always knew you were a wanderer at heart. I could tell you weren’t here to stay forever. When I met Smokeheart, I knew you'd be tempted to leave with him, and I panicked. I thought I could bribe you into staying.”

Wildstep tried to speak, but Starlight shook her head. “Go enjoy the music. Don’t worry, this isn’t goodbye yet.”

She returned to the crowd, heart lighter than it had been all day. Starlight and her band strike up a song, and she swayed back and forth in tune to the music. The roof was crowded, and would be until Starlight’s band finished and the twoleg music started, but she was going to dance, stars be damned.

Throughout the night, cats came up to say goodbye. She thanked them all, and was surprised how many faces she recognized, and how many she would miss. Many of them were little more than fellow rave cats, but they had shared a comraderie in their moons together. Even Terry said goodbye, though the two had scarcely shared half a dozen words in all of their moons together.

She dances until her paws ache. But unlike the ache of running, it’s a good ache. For a brief shining moment, she doesn’t feel like she needs to hide. Exposed in the crowd, herself and her dancing, she exists, and she is invincible.

* * *

Fighting back a yawn, Wildstep crawled out of the small entrance onto the yard outside of the guardian cats’ lair. Chubby squeezed out after her, smacking her lips and not pretending to hide her yawn. Her stomach growled, and Wildstep glanced at her. The stout blue molly glared.

The sun had just risen, and the city was still mostly quiet – for a city, that is. Only a few monsters rolled up and down their thunderpaths, and they were quiet, not honking or screeching like they would later in the day.

Smokeheart, Featherflight, and Starlight were waiting for them on the lawn. As they approached, Starlight rushed forward and pressed her white muzzle against Wildstep’s. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered.

“I’ll miss you, too,” wildstep promised. “Promise you’ll have fun without me.” With some amusement Wildstep noticed a new spot on her face, above one of her eyebrows. It made her look like the black molly was raising her eyebrows in surprise, and she resisted the urge to laugh.

Starlight pulled back, purring. “I’ll make do. Chubby will be my new buddy.” She turned around to grin at the old molly, making sure to speak clearly as she asked, "Would you like that, Chubby? You'll be my new adventure pal, right?"

“I will not,” the flat-faced cat grunted, and this time Wildstep did laugh. 

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Starlight told her. “And your kin,” she added, nodding at Smokeheart and Featherflight. “Tell me you’ll visit.”

“I’ll try.” Wildstep hesitated, then stepped towards her son. “I should get going.”

“Okay.” Starlight blinked, and her eyes shimmered with sadness. “Wander safely.”

“And live freely,” wildstep murmured, completing the phrase used to bless wanderers passing through.

She pads up to her son. She nodded, and he took the lead, padding away with the rising sun at his back, towards the edge of the city. Featherflight followed on his heels, and she took up the back. As she left, she cast one more parting glance behind her. Starlight had buried her face into Chubby’s side, unable to watch. Chubby blinked as she met Wildstep’s gaze, but even her eyes were darkened by grief. 

WIldstep was surprised to realize how much they would miss her. And how much she would miss them.

Heart heavy but paws light, she followed her family into the unknown.

* * *

She had forgotten how wonderful the scent of fresh wind could be. After moons of breathing in nothing but city smog and stink, the great outdoors was, quite literally, a breath of fresh air. They were approaching the back end of summer, but the leaves were still green and the sky was still blue.

She had never thought to question what lay directly outside the city. She never saw it when she was coming in, of course, because of the thundersnake. She was surprised to see more twoleg dens, more like neighborhoods than cities, with grassy lawns and large, sweeping expanses of shrubs and flowers.

They traveled mostly at night, to avoid the twolegs and their dogs, who slept inside at night. In the city, Wildstep had forgotten what it meant to be awake at night time. Night in the city was so different – there were the monsters, and the twoleg dens and their strange lights blocking the light of the stars, and instead of the quiet, melodious chirping of cicadas and crickets, there was the rumble of monsters and the stink of their dirtwater. Besides, even in the city she hadn’t been truly nocturnal; there were the raves, of course, but she was awake plenty often during the daytime as well, exploring the city at Starlight's heels.

Wildstep had grown up at night, and adjusting to this nighttime routine felt like curling up in her favorite nest after a long journey away from home.

Smokeheart and Featherflight frolicked back and forth among the dewy grass, flicking water droplets at each other and purring as the water spiked up each other’s fur. Featherflight struck a pose next to Wildstep, his mussed up fur tangled and spiky. “Look, Smokeheart. You’ve become mates with your mother!”

Smokeheart laughed, and so did Wildstep, and she was glad that her son was glad.

They moved swiftly, but made detours to look at pretty trees, or enjoy the hospitality of a friendly loner, when offered the opportunity. They were headed towards the sundrown place, she leaned, and they always woke up at dusk so they could follow the direction of the setting sun. She didn’t know much about the sundrown place; it sounded vaguely familiar, as if she had heard about it in a nursery tale once. Featherflight told her it was water, but bigger than any water she had seen before. She wasn’t sure what was so special about that. But she wasn’t here for the sundrown place, she was here to be with her kin.

They met several cats, mostly kittypets, as they traveled through the neighborhoods. Every time, Smokeheart spoke coolly and calmly for all three of them, and Wildstep’s heart swelled each time she watched him in action. Like most cats, the kittypets loved to hear their stories, though many of them were not as interested in music as Wildstep felt they should be. She tried to imagine how she would feel if she had still been in the Clans and a stranger explained something so foreign as music to her, and she knew she wouldn’t have understood, or wanted to understand. Still, her heart panged to think of how many cats didn’t even know what they were missing.

Her heart panged, because she did know what she was missing.

Eventually, they broke out of the neighborhood and into more rural stretches of land. The feeling of soft dirt, untouched by twolegs, made her paws and heart rejoice, and she ran across the stretch of land, tumbling and running across the fields. A gust of wind knocked her off of her paws, and she pushed Featherflight down with her, who dragged Smokeheart down with him, and the three of them collapsed into a heap, laughing so hard their lungs hurt.

During the day, they made a nest underneath a bush, and the stars peaked down on them as they curled up to sleep.

“I’m glad we you decided to come with us,” Featherlight told her as they settled down one day, watching the sky lighten as they got ready to sleep. Smokeheart had wandered off, intending to hunt down a nice mouse or two to tide him over until they woke up at dusk. “Smokeheart really enjoys spending the time with you. He never really had a mother figure, after you left ShadowClan.”

She flattened her ears, but Featherflight shook his head and put his orange paw over hers. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now. And I enjoy spending time with you too, for what it’s worth. I was never very close with my family in WindClan. It’s nice to pretend I have a mother again.”

“You do have a mother,” she insisted. “Please, call me Mom. You are my son-by-kin, after all.”

His gray eyes brightened, and he examined her for a heartbeat before saying, “Okay… Mom.”

She purred.

A rustling of the grass nearby alerted them to Smokeheart’s arrival, hind legs sauntering as his round belly swayed side to side. He settled down next to his mate, a steady purr rising from his chest. “Good light, everycat,” he murmured, resting his chin on his mate’s white spine.

“Good light, Smoke,” Featherflight murmured, and then, “Good light, Mom.”

Heart bursting, she lay there watching the sun lighten, too full of exhilaration to sleep for a long, long time.

She didn’t know how long they’ve been traveling – days? Moons? – when her fur started to prickle with apprehension. The air smelled distinct, and she kept getting the feeling she’d been here before. The three of them were crossing through a neighborhood, and she glanced at the twoleg dens on either side of the street, but nothing about them stood out. They were surrounded by perfectly normal twoleg dens on all sides.

Well, nothing about twoleg dens were normal. But they didn’t help her remember anything specific.

She shook her head and continued on. A few tail length’s ahead, Smokeheart and Featherflight were padding side by side, tails intertwined as they walked. Smokeheart leaned over and whispered something in his mate’s ear. Featherflight snorted, and he pushed his mate away, whiskers twitching indignantly.

Watching her two kits exist so simply, as if they were made to walk side-by-side, tails intwined, whispering into each other’s ears, her heart lightened, and she was able to set her unease aside. The moon was sinking low in the sky. Dawn would come soon, and their shadows followed behind them as they made their way down the small twoleg thunderpath.

Smokeheart angled his ears, gazing forward intently as he slowed to a stop. She pressed her nose to his side, following his gaze.

“What is it?” Featherflight asked, his deep meow a barely audible whisper.

“I smell cat,” he answered. “And it’s fresh. I think she may be nearby.”

Wildstep opened her mouth, drinking in the crisp night air, and sure enough, now that she knew what to look for, there it was – the subtle scent of a molly who had recently passed by. She was so busy trying to figure out in which direction the molly had gone that she didn’t notice they weren’t alone until a voice spoke from overhead:

“Hello, strangers.”

She whiled around, fur bristling. Who was it? Where were they?

“Oh, hello!” Smokeheart chirped.

Wildstep followed his gaze to a nearby twoleg fence. Perched on top of the fence was a brown tabby molly, her muzzle and chest white with age. Her yellow eyes flashed in the moonlight as she glared down at them, frowning.

Wildstep took a step back, unnerved by the molly’s fierce glare.

“Hello,” Smokeheart meowed again. He used the calm, collected meow he used when talking to strangers. “My name is Mo, and this is my mate Fey and my mother Wild.” At the request of her son, she had picked her own wanderer name. The name Rags was too tied up in who she was in the city, and the thought of strangers using that name made her fur prickle. So instead, she was Wild, in a weird, half-mutilation of her name. Saying only part of her name made her feel incomplete. But at least they were inconspicuous, and didn’t draw attention to themselves. “We’re wanderers, and we bring news from our travels.”

The molly eyed them suspiciously. “Haven’t had any wanderers come through here in a long time,” she meowed. “Where you headed?”

“The sundrown place.”

“The sundrown place?” the molly _tsk_ ed. “Then you’ve got a ways to go.” She glanced behind her, towards the twoleg den, then motioned with a jerk of her head for them to follow her. “The sun will be rising soon. You better rest up.” Without waiting, She disappeared into her garden.

Wildstep eyed her companions. Smokeheart flicked his ear before wiggling his haunches and following. Featherflight motioned for Wildstep to go first, and he followed behind.

The lawn was manicured, without a single blade of grass out of place. She felt bad for walking on it, like she would mess up some twoleg’s hard work getting everything to look just so.

The molly stood near a small structure, motioning for them to come over. It looked like a twoleg den, but smaller. “This is a dog’s outside den,” she explained as the three of them approached. “You can sleep here for as long as you want. There’s a water bowl here,” she tapped it with her paws, “and you’ll be safe from tomorrow’s rain.” She looked up, her gaze darkening as she examined the clouds gathering overhead.

“What about the dog?” Wildstep asked, eyeing the structure with apprehension.

The molly shrugged. “If there was one, it passed away before my housefolk brought me here. I’ve housed countless wanderers such as yourself in that den. Nothing bad ever came of them. Stop worrying.” She turned around and started to pad towards the twoleg den. “Rest for now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait!” Smokeheart called as she padded away. “We never got your name.”

“That’s because I never told you.” She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You can call me Mama.”

The name didn’t even register until the old molly was almost to the entrance leading inside her twoleg den. But just as she pressed her nose against the entrance, Wildstep stiffened. Of course! This neighborhood had felt so familiar because it _was_ familiar! She darted forward. “Mama! Wait!”

Mama turned around, scowling. “What?”

“I met one of your friends in this neighborhood once. Around a year ago, I think. Their name was Maudlin?”

“Maudlin?” At the name, the molly’s gaze softened. “Yes, I knew Maudlin.”

“’Knew’?” Wildstep asked. “Did something happen to them?”

“I’m afraid so.” Mama shook her head. “maudlin’s housefolk moved away several moons ago. They took Maudlin with them.”

“Oh.” She remembered how Maudlin had told her how they their housefolk had brought them here from somewhere very far away. How long ago that seemed! And yet she remembered the small kindness the cat had shown her like it had happened yesterday. “I got the impressions their twolegs did that a lot.”

“It’s not uncommon.” The molly sighed. “Sometimes it feels as if twolegs move around more than you wanderers.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wildstep’s heart panged. “I think Maudlin would have liked hearing about my travels.”

“I’m sure they would have.” She examined her, peering intently. “Say, this is a long shot, but you wouldn’t happen to be that old Clan cat, would you? The one who abandoned her kits to explore the world?”

Wildstep stiffened. She glanced behind her, but Smokeheart and Featherflight were settling down inside the dog den, and didn’t seem to overhear. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Mama nodded. “I won’t pry. But there are only so many ginger mollies with spiky fur. And Maudlin wouldn’t shut up about you for a moon after you stopped by. It was Clans this and Clans that, day in and out. I’m sure you understand.”

Wildstep shook her head. “I don’t. They’re not that great. But I did find one of my kits, in the end.” She motioned with her tail. “My son.”

“I did wonder.” The molly lifted her chin. “You go to sleep now. But this won’t be the last I talk to you, and that’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

She watched Mama slip inside her twoleg den before she returned to her old dog den. Her companions had already fallen asleep, tired from the night’s travels. She settled in, in between her son and her son-by-kin, and closed her eyes, and dreampt.

* * *

Mama was sunning herself in the front yard when Wildstep woke up. Smokeheart and Featherflight’s nests were empty, but their scent was fresh; they must have left recently. She rose to her paws and stuck her head out of the old dog den.

Mama raised her head as Wildstep padded out, kneading her white paws onto the soft grass underpaw. “Morning.” She glanced upwards at the sky, clocking the position of the sun. “Or maybe I should say afternoon.”

“You, too,” Wildstep replied. “Where are the others?”

“One of my friends came to say hello, and when he saw I had visitors he insisted on taking them on a tour. Your son insisted on letting you sleep in.” Mama rose into a sitting position, shaking out her shoulders fur. “Trust me, you’re not missing much. This neighborhood is just like all the others you’ve been through, I’m sure.”

“Sure,” Wildstep echoed.

Mama motioned towards the twoleg den. “I’ve got a bowl over there. Help yourself.”

As if it had ears, her stomach rumbled. Suddenly realizing how hungry she was, Wildstep hurried over to the food bowl. The scent of kittypet kibble was distinct, and it was easy enough to find the bowl; the dry kibble was hardly thrilling, but it filled her up, and it’s not like she could complain when this cat has shown her so much hospitality.

When she finished eating, Mama had gone back to sunbathing. She cracked open one glittering eye and flicked her tail, motioning for Wildstep to come closer. “Come relax with me,” she rumbled. “When was the last time you did that?”

“Probably not since we left the city,” Wildstep allowed, and she laid down beside the older molly and closed her eyes. The sun warmed her fiery pelt, and she sighed and melted into the grass. “Your twolegs won’t mind that there’s a strange cat in their yard?”

“Nah,” Mama purred, amused at the thought. “Cats come and go all the time. I’d be surprised if they even realized you weren’t one of my regular guests.”

“Huh.”

“So you used to live in a Clan, huh? How was that like?”

Wildstep shuddered. She bit down her first instinct to deny everything, but there wasn’t any point; Mama already knew, and at this point there was no harm in admitting it. “Bad. I mean, maybe it’s good for some cats. I guess there wouldn’t still be Clans if there were. But it was bad for me.”

“Makes sense. That’s how I feel about wanderers.”

Wildstep stiffened. She eyed the older molly warily. “You used to be a wanderer?” It was hard to imagine the old molly, belly round from seasons of eating twoleg food, muzzle and chest flecked with gray, as anything but a lounging kittypet.

“Sure was.” Mama cracked one eye open to glance at her, and Wildstep squirmed under the molly’s fierce gaze. “I was a wanderer for many years. It was the only life I knew, and I was prepared to die a wanderer, just as I was born one.”

“What happened?”

Mama flicked her ear. “I got tired. I found the twolegs that would eventually become my housefolk. They were nice, and they made me feel good. So I stayed.” Mama glanced at her. “That Moe kit of yours. Is he your first?”

“Yeah,” Wildstep meowed, surprised by the bluntness of her question. “I mean, he wasn’t the only one in his litter. But he was in the first – and only – litter I’ve had.”

“Figures.” Mama flicked her ear. “I can see you worrying after him in the way that only a first timer does.”

“You’ve had kits, then?”

“Of course. Can’t you tell by the name? I’ve had plenty of kits, with plenty of fathers – and mothers, too, I should add. Wonderful parents, all of them. Well, most of them.” She made a face. “Zucchini never quite got the hang of it. Would’ve drowned the kits if I hadn’t stopped and told ‘m off. Who lets their kits go swimming when they’re barely a moon old? Idiot.” She rolled her eyes, but the twitch of her whiskers betrayed her poorly disguised amusement. “No, I don’t regret it. I still have plenty of kits, you know. I treat all of the cats who live in this neighborhood as my children.”

Huh. Wildstep tilted her head, considering that. 

“Let me ask you a question,” Mama meowed. “Why’d you leave Maudlin?”

“Huh?” She wrapped her tail around her paws, for once thankful that her naturally tufted fur made it easier to hide her fur prickling with unease.

“You promised you would stay, but you didn’t. You never intended to stay, did you? So why lie?”

“Uh—” Wildstep stammered, unsure what she was supposed to say. “I had to keep moving, that’s all.”

“And yet here you are, right back where you started,” Mama meowed, her tone flat. “Can I give you some advice, Wild?” the way she said the name made her flinch.

“Um—”

“I’ll give it to you anyways. Clearly you’re running from something. I say running from and not running to, because if you were going to somewhere in particular, you’d be there by now and not stuck right back where you started. And don’t give me any of that sundrown place nonsense.”

“What?” Wildstep stiffened.

“You abandoned your kits. Unless Maudlin was lying about that part, but I doubt they were.” Mama shrugged. “I mean, one of them is here, so I guess you didn’t abandon them all that well. But still.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So the issue isn’t your kits at all,” meowed mama, her eyes glittering as if she had just stumbled upon some juicy prey. “It’s not because you’re worried about leaving your kits behind. It’s because you’re worried about letting go of the past.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mama sat up. “I’m just saying what I’m seeing. You’ve been running from years, handing out different names to every cat you see like you’re trying to become somecat else. But suddenly your son shows up, and you’re clinging to him like a burr. There’s still a tiny bit of you that’s afraid to let go, huh?”

Wildstep rose to her paws. Her tail lashed as she stepped back, and she looked over her shoulder anxiously. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“First you were a Clan cat. Then, you were a runner. Now who are you if you’re not running, huh?”

Wildstep dug her claws into the ground. “I said I’m done talking now. You’ll stop if you know what’s good for you.”

“Suit yourself.” Mama plopped back onto the ground, sprawling out with her paws splayed in all directions. “But sometimes a mama’s job is to poke in places that hurt. That’s how scabs form, and you start to heal.”

There was no part of that sentence about scabs that was true, metaphorically or literally, but Wildstep was too tired to argue anymore. She curled up with her back to the older molly and closed her eyes.

What felt like only heartbeats later, Smokeheart and Featherflight bounded back into the garden. Smokeheart chattered excitedly about some funny dogs they had met on their trip, and Featherflight purred as he knocked their heads together.

Mama listened to the silver tom ramble with rapt attention. She let them have their fill of food and water before leading them over the fence back onto the small twoleg thunderpath. Their shadows stretched behind them as they faced the setting sun.

“This is where our paths part ways,” Mama rumbled.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Smokeheart meowed. “This was a much-needed break.”

“I hope you all found what you were looking for, and heard what you needed to hear.” Mama glanced at Wildstep as she spoke.

She forced herself to sound cordial as she replied, “Thank you for all of your help, Mama.”

“I was more helpful than you realize,” Mama meowed. “I’m sure.”

“You were very helpful,” Featherflight assured her. He turned back to Smokeheart. “Are you ready to go, honey?”

“Of course.”

Wildstep eyed Mama as the three of them pressed past her. To her surprise, the older molly dipped her head as she passed, and her expression softened from her usual scowl to an expression she would call kind and concerned, if she didn’t know better.

Maybe Mama only meant to help after all.

She shook her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have deliberately scratched at old wounds if she had wanted to help. She pressed onward.

Still, their conversation kept running around inside her head, and she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Mama was right, and she was holding onto the past she was trying so desperately to escape after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, our time in the city has come to a close! I've decided I want to get this story out there so I can start working on other things, so have another biweekly update. The next installment will be the last! 
> 
> A note on terminology: I'm borrowing the term "by-kin" from Roseatte's Love What Is Mortal. It's meant as an equivalent to "in-law".


	8. push you so hard, and pull you back in

> And I'll run into the diamond sea
> 
> You'll finish reading and follow me
> 
> And this is our beach, our piece of paradise
> 
> I should have been here for my whole life
> 
> -Tropics, Mantaraybryn

* * *

The three cats continued in the direction of the setting sun. After a few days, Wildstep thought they must be getting close. The dirt turned sandy underpaw, and the breeze carried a lighthearted, airy scent to it that one didn’t find in the depths of the forest or the heart of the city.

They were traveling during the day, now, to make sure that they truly traveled in the direction of the setting sun. If the sundrown place was as big as Smokeheart and Featherflight described, it would be hard to miss, but none of them wanted to take any chances.

“I think I smell another cat,” Smokeheart announced, ears angling forward. “Yes! There, by the sleeping twoleg monster. Hi!” he bounded forward, paws flying over the thunderpath as he went. Featherflight loped after him, making sure to look both ways before crossing, and Wildstep followed not far behind.

They were passing down a lonely thunderpath with few monsters and fewer twoleg dens along its side. Wildstep had scented a few cats as they had traveled, but they all smelled faint and old. This was the first time since leaving Mama that they had run into another cat.

The cat had been sunning itself, and it lifted its head as they approached. He was a sandy-furred tom, round and well-fed. He flicked his tail in greeting, but didn’t sit up as they grew close. “Howdy.”

“Hello,” Smokeheart meowed, fur fluffing up with eagerness. “We’re wanderers, and we’re looking for—”

“The ocean, I reckon,” the tom cut him off. “Yeah, most folk who are just passing through are.”

“The ocean? Is that the same as the sundrown place?”

“Sundrown place, big water, ocean – call it what you will,” the tom meowed, flicking his ear. “It’s all the same thing, just with different names, is all. You’re headed in the right direction. Just keep going down the path and you’ll get there eventually.”

“Thank you!” Smokeheart bounced on his paws, eyes glittering with excitement. “How far away is it, do you know?”

“If you keep moving at a steady place, I reckon you’ll get there before sunset,” the meowed, letting his head flop back down onto the ground. “You should definitely get there as soon as possible. The sunsets are gorgeous, or so I’ve heard.”

Featherflight pricked his orange ears, and his smoky eyes narrowed as he studied the tom. “So you’ve heard… have you never actually been?”

“Why should I? I’ve got all I need right here.” He made a sweeping motion with his tail. “I’ve got plenty of spots to sun in, and my housefolk set up a birdbath so I have my pick of snacks. Why would I want to see some salty puddle?”

“It’s not just a puddle!” Smokeheart insisted, but Featherflight flicked his tail against his mate’s side to cut him off.

“Thank you for the directions,” he answered smoothly. “We’ll be on our way. I hope you enjoy your sunning spot.”

“I sure will,” the tom answered, and he closed his eyes, signaling that the conversation was over.

Featherflight motioned down the road. “We better get going then. We can’t risk missing the sunset.”

* * *

Their shadows raced behind them as they ran up a sandy dune. The wind whistled in Wildstep’s ears, and her paws itched to see what lay over the hill. The air smelled of salt and fish and something she could only describe as whimsy, though she didn’t know it was a smell before now.

Up ahead, Featherflight, with his long, WindClan-bred legs, prefect for running, made it to the crest of the sand dune first. Hot on his heels, Smokeheart pulled to a stop beside him and whooped with delight. “It’s beautiful!”

Wildstep pushed on, wishing she had the youthful endurance of her kit or the long, graceful legs of his mate, but sadly she lacked both and lagged behind. She braced herself, expecting to see a large pond, or perhaps a river of some kind—

She broke over the top of the hill.

She skidded to a stop, and her heart stopped beating.

It was _beautiful._ It was beyond description.

The sundrown place – the ocean – lay down at the bottom of the small sand dune they had climbed. From there, it stretched as far as the eye could see, and then some, out to either side and towards the sky. It pulled the sun towards it, and in turn the sun cast a glow, making it look more like shimmering gold than water.

The water pulled up into waves, much bigger than any she had seen on the pond back in the Clans, and tumbled onto the sandy shore, crashing and sending spray everywhere.

A few seagulls flew overhead, and a small group of plovers pecked at the wet sand left by the waves, looking for something to eat, but besides that they were entirely alone.

This breathtaking view, just for them? It was unthinkable. And yet, it was true.

“Last one to the water is a rotten egg!” Smokeheart called out. He lunged forward, sticking his paws out and tumbling down the slope, rolling more than running, and sand stuck to his fur and turned him spiky-furred and ginger. He rolled to his paws and pranced towards the water, tail carried high as he pawed at the water’s edge.

“He looks like you now,” Featherflight meowed, whiskers twitching in amusement. “I see the family resemblance.” Then he, too, fell to the ground, rolling down the hill in a tumbling ball. He made it look easy, graceful, even.

She could never do that. Maybe she is getting old. Whiskers twitching with amusement, she followed more carefully, making sure each pawstep would hold before putting weight down. The sand shifted underpaw, and more than once she tripped (this was the advantage to Smokeheart’s method, she supposed) but she made it to the beach quickly enough.

Featherflight and Smokeheart toed the water’s edge, both unwilling to make the first move. Their pawprints littered the sand as they paced back and forth, until the next wave came crashing in and washed them away.

Wildstep pushed between them, all of her senses trained at the sight before her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Smokeheart told her. “It’s just cold.”

“Oh, is that all?” she asked, surprised by her own ease. The sound of the water calmed her, and its rhythmic beating soothed her. A small wave rushed up to lap at her toes, and its chill thrilled her. “Oh, that’s all!” she cried out.

A deep need filled her, as if possessed, and before she thought she flung herself into the water, springing through the waves under the ground fell away underpaw, and she was swimming, swimming, swimming.

And for just a heartbeat, she was free.

* * *

Salt water sprayed into her mouth, and the cold pulled her town, but the gentle tug of the waves tugged at her paws, and she drifted farther out still. She hardly felt the chill, to be honest, because her heart sparked with joy and warmed her to her core. She was dimly aware of Smokeheart and Featherflight splashing behind her, the sounds of their laughter and squeals of joy spreading beyond them.

She never wanted to leave, she could live here, she thought, but all too soon her paws won’t paddle to keep her upright, and she glances at the deep, black water underneath, and suddenly she’s afraid of how easily she could be swept away without anycat even noticing. She let the waves push her back to shore, and had the waves really pushed her so far away from where she had started? She loped back to where Featherflight was cleaning himself off, just outside of the water’s reach, her numb paws scraping against the damp sand and making her wince.

“You look like you had fun,” Featherflight commented as she approached. His damp fur fluffed out, and he looked more like a snowball than a cat.

The mental image made Wildstep purr. “I did. The water is wonderful.”

“You should’ve been a RiverClan cat. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to leave,” Featherflight meowed, whiskers twitching in amusement.

“Maybe I was switched at birth,” Wildstep’s eyes glittered.

“How unfortunate for you, then, to come all this way only to realize you had been so close to home all along!”

Wildstep stilled, her playful mood dying on her tongue. Home. What a strange concept. She didn’t have one, couldn’t have one, as a wanderer. But as she looked over the ocean, she couldn’t help but feel a strong tug rooting her in place.

She and her son-by-kin silently watched the sun sink towards the ocean. Smokeheart came back to watch, cuddling up against his mate, his fluffed up silver fur almost dwarfing his mate. “I tried looking for some food, but I couldn’t find any. There’s some rabbits, I think. Maybe you’d have better luck with them than me, Feather. I also saw signs of a small twoleg settlement a little ways up the beach. We can go there and look through their rotpiles if we need to.”

“I’d rather not,” Featherflight meowed, licking his lips. “I would kill for a rabbit right about now.”

“Luckily for you, that’s what you have to do to catch them,” Smokeheart purred.

Wildstep didn’t take her eyes off of the sun. It kissed the ocean, now, turning the sky red and gold. Clouds, dark with rain and foreboding, loomed overhead, tinged with red. “You don’t want to watch?”

“We can, and we will,” Smokeheart assured her. “We’re just thinking about after the sun sets.”

“What do you think happens to it?” she asked. “After it sets. It goes into the water. Does the ocean snuff it out?”

“It can’t,” Featherflight meowed. “It rises against in the morning.”

“What if that’s a different sun? A new sun?”

“Why would it be different?” Smokeheart asked. “It’s the sun. It’s always the same.”

She couldn’t explain it, but the scene transfixed her. “You two can go hunting without me,” she told them. “I want to watch the night set in.”

“But—” Featherflight started, but was cut off.

“Of course. We’ll catch something for you,” Smokeheart told her.

She didn’t watch as they padded away.

* * *

She watched as The storm rolled in. The dark clouds billowed overhead, and the wind buffeted her fur, and it smelled like rain and growing things and new opportunities.

Smokeheart nudged her and she jumped at his touch. The wind had been so loud that she hadn’t heard him approach, and with the wind blowing in every direction, she couldn’t smell him, either.

“Featherflight and I found some shelter,” he told her. “Are you ready to come in yet?”

Wildstep glanced at her son. He gazed at her, eyes round with concern. She turned back to the water. “Soon, I think.”

“Okay,” Smokeheart meowed. “When you’re ready, head up the shore several dozen fox-lengths. We’re in the huge bush by one of those cylindrical containers twolegs put food they don’t want anymore.” He pressed his muzzle to hers. “Have fun. It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself for once.” He pulled back, his eyes glimmered. “I’ll see you soon.”

Wildstep turned her gaze back to the ocean. Not long after Smokeheart left, the rain started to fall. It splattered against her fur, and when it hit the sand by her paws it made little grains of sand splash into her belly fur.

The raindrops made the surface of the ocean ripple. The waves twisted and shifted, growing larger as the wind grew stronger, and Wildstep was forced backwards as a wave knocked into her, knocking her off her paws and pushing her back against the sand.

The raindrops beat against the sand. The waves push back against the water. The wind whistles in her ears.

Wait a moment. Hasn’t she heard this beat before?

The ocean was music! It created a music of its own, in its shifting waves. With a holler, she leapt forward, moving like a fish swimming through a current, splashing through the waves, and with each splash her heart leaps with joy. And she’s dancing, and she’s dancing, and she’s _dancing._

By the time she dragged herself to their shelter, sopping wet and heart singing, her son and son-by-kin are already asleep. She cleaned herself off as best she could, and she curled up by the entrance, watching the storm swirl around outside, both her eyes and heart wide open.

* * *

By the next morning, the storm had passed, and the sky was a bright, sunny blue again. She was the first outside, and as her stomach rumbled she realized she had never eaten last night. It seems silly to have forgotten now, but she had been so swept up with adrenaline she hadn’t even noticed her empty stomach.

She toed the water, but if there were any fish swimming around in that salty depth, it was too far out for her to see. There were some dunes covered with grasses as she padded away from the shore, and she turned towards them instead, pawing around until she stumbled upon a bird and snapped its neck. It was half by luck, but she’d take what she could get. She helped herself to a puddle left from last night’s rain before taking her kill back to their shelter. Featherflight was just beginning to stir as she finished her share of the bird and nudged it towards the entrance for her companions to take, and he blinked gratefully at her. He wrapped his tail around Smokeheart, who was still sound asleep.

She spent the rest of the day exploring the oceans. Wildstep frolicked in and out of the waves, only coming out to eat or drink. Smoleheart and Featherflight eventually joined her, and they danced in and out of the water and rolled on the sand and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. They played tag, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had played tag, and she felt like a kitten all over again.

That night, she tucked herself into their makeshift nest under the bush, her paws weary from spending all day running in and out of the waves, and her fur warm and sun-kissed. Smokeheart purred as he wrapped his tail over her side. “You seem happy,” he told her.

“Was I not happy before?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Smokeheart flicked his tail against her side. “I thought you were. But now you seem… I don’t know.”

“more alive,” offered Featherflight, settling in and resting his chin on his mate’s front paws.

“Yeah,” Smokeheart agreed. “More alive.”

The next day, the three of them strolled down the beach to examine the nearby twolegplace. It wasn’t quite a neighborhood, because it had those strange twoleg dens that twolegs didn’t live in, but used to eat, or feed their monsters, But it was smaller than any city. They didn’t go inside, but watched from the outskirts. The faint scent of cat wafted towards them from further inside the city.

Wildstep hung back when Smokeheart offered to explore it. Her paws insisted she stay by the waves and their music.

So they played in the ocean again.

This was the pattern they followed. While the moon grew from little more than a claw in the sky to a full, round disk, they lived on the beach, spending each day playing games in the waves and each night curled up under their bush, dreaming up new, exciting ways to spend their days.

Many nights, after Smokeheart and Featherflight had retired to their den, Wildstep would stay outside, listening to the waves rolling against the sand. The music made her heart swell, and more than once she found herself swaying the same way she would to Starlight’s band, seeking the beat and the flow.

If her companions saw, they never said anything about it.

The first night that the moon started to shrink again. Smokeheart spread out on his side, and Featherflight rested his head on Smokeheart’s fluffy belly fur. Smokeheart rested his front paw on Featherflight’s shoulders, holding him close. “We should think about where we want to go next,” he meowed.

Featherflight closed his silvery eyes and purred in contemplation. “The beach is so nice. It’s a shame we have to leave.”

Wildstep’s blood froze. She had been circling around in her nest before settling down, but at her companions’ words she jerked upright, fur bushing out. “Do we have to leave? So soon?”

Smokeheart flicked his ear. “We wanted to see the sundrown place. Now we’ve seen the sundrown place. Why would we stay?”

“Well, we just got here.”

Featherflight adjusted his position to peer at her through half-closed eyes. “We didn’t stay at any of the other places we’ve traveled through.”

“But they weren’t…” She waved her tail, motioning towards the lull of the crashing waves outside their temporary bush shelter. “This is special.”

Smokeheart frowns. “We did overwinter last year…”

“So let’s overwinter here! It’s already Leaf-fall! It’ll be Leaf-bare soon enough!”

“But this isn’t a good place to wait out the cold season. There’s no shelter and barely any food. I’m sure the water would be much too cold to swim in.”

The ground fell away beneath her paws and she lurched to keep her balance.

Featherflight nudged Smokeheart, pressing his orange nose into his mate’s thick silver fur. When he turned back to Wildstep, his gaze was soft. “Would it help if you got to pick where we went next? I’m sure you’ve heard of other far-off places in your travels. Surely one of them makes you as excited as the sundrown place.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking. And Featherflight was right, she’d heard of more far-off places than she could count, and any number of them would probably be interesting to visit and explore. But even as she tried to pick a place, any place, the thought of leaving the oceans and the waves and the music made her heart clench.

She shook her head. “I need to clear my head,” she muttered, and she pushed through the entrance of their shelter back onto the beach. She heard Featherflight whisper something to Smokeheart, but neither tom followed.

She found herself alone on the wide expanse of beach. The moon peaked over her shoulder, and stars glittered in the distance. The sand glowed silver as she walked over it towards the ocean.

As the loose sand underpaw turned to firmer soil and gravel, she slowed. She looked around her, blinking with surprise as she realized she had wandered into the nearby twolegplace. Light poked through their den windows, and she sidestepped into the shadows, fur prickling as she made sure no twolegs were around. As she confirmed she was alone, she relaxed. She padded forward, ears angled forward as she surveyed her surroundings, eager for a distraction from her problems. 

She wandered down the thunderpath, which was surprisingly quiet. Twolegs strolled the thunderpath or gathered in small groups on the yards outside their dens, but they were easy to avoid as long as she stayed in the shadows. A familiar sound reached her ears and she paused, straining to hear better. There! It was coming inside the twoleg den! She padded closer, wary of approaching twolegs, but none approached her. She pinpointed the sound from a strange box next to an open window. Muffled, tiny music poured out of the box and into the night air.

She found herself purring as the soft tune washed over her. Emotion threatened to overwhelm her as she recognized the tune. It was so similar to the song Starlight had played for her during her first night in the city! She had barely even known what music was, and she had no way of knowing how important it would become in her life. She rooted herself to the spot, unable to tell if she felt joy or grief or nostalgia or all three at once.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, transfixed by the music, before she heard the tentative but familiar meow of a cat behind her. Jolting with surprise, she shook her head, breaking out of her trance. She flicked her tail, motioning for him to come closer, and Smokeheart pressed his face against her side, rubbing against her as he came to stand at her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he meowed quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not your fault,” she told him. And here she was, telling lies to him like he was a kitten back in the nursery, asking if the legendary tales the elders had told him were true. They didn’t have to leave. Smokeheart _wanted_ to.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. She tried to bite her tongue, but a wave of emotion rolled over her, as powerful as the ocean at her paws. Her paws trembled, and her hind legs collapsed underneath her so that she was sitting. “I’m just so tired,” she whispered. She looked at her son, and his round, yellow eyes looked back at her with pity, and she hated herself for it. “How do you do it? How do you keep running from everything and still act so happy? Aren’t you tired of running?”

Smokeheart pressed his paw over hers. “Never,” he told her. “I live to run and to wander. But I’m never running from, Mom. I’m always running _to_. There’s always the next big thing to discover.”

“I wish I felt the same way,” she meowed, unable to hide the bitterness from her voice. She tensed, fearing that something moved behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder, fearing that she would find the piercing, glittering gaze of _him_ waiting for her. But there was nothing, only the wind rustling the branches of their bush shelter.

“Mom?” Smokeheart asked, his meow tentative. He hesitated, then wrapped his paw around her shoulders, hugging her close. In her mind, she still thought of him as her little kit, and a part of her was surprised that he was big, bigger than her, even, and he held her close, her head resting easily underneath his chin. He released the hug, pulling back, his ears flat against his head. “Is this about Dad? He’s not mad at you for leaving, you know. Maybe he was a little, at the beginning. I don’t know. But now he thinks you’re watching over him and the rest of our family in StarClan.”

The confirmation that her mate wasn’t chasing after her to drag her back to ShadowClan should have taken a weight off of her chest. But she felt the same tense wariness she always felt. “It wasn’t your father. Or not just him. It’s everything. I hated the Clans with every fiber of my being. We had a battle skirmish once, you know. I don’t remember who it was with, or why, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t think it ever mattered. Our mediator advised against it, but our medicine cat said we had StarClan’s blessing. But it was horrible. That night, I lay in my nest, unable to sleep because every time I closed my eyes I saw the bloodstained aftermath of our fighting. I knew then that if StarClan blessed acts of bloodshed like that, then I wanted nothing to do with them.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Smokeheart soothed. “No cat blames you for doing what you did.”

“Then maybe they should!” she growled. “None of the other cats in that battle abandoned their Clan. Only me. And look what came of it!” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have left my friends to a horrible fate within the Clans. I shouldn’t have let my own kits think I was dead. I shouldn’t have lied to Maudlin, or leave Angelou when he needed my help, or fought with Starlight.

“You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to run from anything.”

“I know.”

“Would you go back to the City, if you could? You seemed to be happy there, with Starlight and the roof raves.”

She angled her ears in the direction of the music again, frowning as its soft noise pressed against her like a warm hug. “No. I mean. Yes, I was happy. But… I wasn’t me, there. Not except for when I was dancing. And I can’t always be dancing. But when I wasn’t dancing, I was just running, same as I am now.”

“So stop running.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I know.” Smokeheart pressed his nose to her cheek, his touch a comforting presence. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” He turned and left, his tail flicking against her reassuringly as he left. She watched him go, paws and heart heavy.

What could she do? She wanted to stay with her son with every morsel of her being. The thought of losing him so soon after finding him again made her want to yowl.

The music from the twoleg den continued to trickle out of the window, and she closed her eyes and listened. What would Starlight say if she were here? Probably she’d pick neither, and tell her to come back to the city and join her band. But that too was just a different way of running from her problems.

The music continued to play.

She opened her eyes. She knew what she had to do. If she wanted to stop outrunning her past, first she had to stop chasing after her past.

It was time to say goodbye.

* * *

The next morning, she stood outside, facing her son and son-by-kin. The soft dawn light rose overhead, reflecting against the cloud, overcast sky, casting the entire setting in a dim, soft light. The world felt softer, kinder.

Smokeheart pressed his face against his mother’s. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes.” Her meow trembled as she spoke, but she forced herself to lift her chin and meet her son’s eye.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured.

“And I, you.” She touched her nose to his. “I’m glad for this time we had together. I’m glad I got the chance to know one of my kits.”

“We can visit,” Featherflight added. “Right?”

Smokeheart flicked his tail. “We can’t promise when. But we’ll probably come back at some point. The beach is too lovely to stay away forever.”

“If I’m not still here, I’ll find some cat who can tell you where I’ve gone,” she promised.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Wildstep turned towards Featherflight. “Take care of each other. If either of you get hurt, when I die my ghost haunt you forever.”

“Looking forward to it,” meowed Featherflight, laughing as Smokeheart batted his tail across his muzzle.

“We’ll be fine, Mom,” Smokeheart promised. “You’ve seen how we travel. We’re careful.”

“Never careful enough for my tastes,” she purred. She nuzzled him one last time. “You two should go, before I change my mind and force you to stay with me.”

“Goodbye, Mom,” whispered Smokeheart.

“Bye,” added Featherflight in a low meow.

The two of them turned and padded off, padding down the beach, with the lapping waves on one side and the rising sun, burning away the morning clouds, on the other. She watched them go, her heart heavy but not anxious. She knew she made the right decision.

She hoped.

She turned towards the waves, finding solace in their constant rhythm. The waves never changed. They always were. She couldn’t imagine something as big as the ocean ever changing. That in itself was calming, was right.

She sat at the line where the sand changed from dry to damp and tucked her ginger tail around her white paws, and watched the water. Its inky black depths lightened as the sun pushed its way through the clouds, turning a murky blue and sparkling with light. Every now and then she saw creatures, much larger than the minnows she was used to by the lake, much larger even than herself, darting out of the waves.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, watching the water and simply existing, when she heard something meow behind her. She twisted around, eyes widening as she saw another cat. She was a small, neat tortoiseshell, one half of her face orange and the other stark white, split down the bridge of her nose, and Wildstep almost thought she was Maudlin, but this cat was pale gray and pale yellow instead of Maudlin’s bright black and orange.

“Hi,” the molly meowed, tail twining about her legs. Her ears flattened against her head, and if Wildstep didn’t know better she would say the molly looked embarrassed. “I couldn’t help but notice that you and your friends had been hanging out around here for a while.”

“My friends are gone now,” Wildstep told her. “It’s just me, now.”

“I see.” Her eyes clouded with sorrow, then brightened again as she continued, “Well, I was talking to some of my friends, and I thought it might be nice to talk to you! See, I couldn’t help but notice that you like the ocean, and my friend Mitzi has access to the roof of their housefolk’s den, and you can get a really good view of the ocean from up there. It’s a wonderful place to view the ocean when it gets too cold to swim.”

Wildstep tilted her head, examining the molly.

She fidgeted (stars, she was nervous like a young apprentice on their first time out of camp!) before continuing. “I wanted to invite you to come, if you wanted.”

Wildstep studied her for a moment. “How many of there are you?”

“Of my friends?” she blinked. “Just a pawful of us. There’s a few more scattered throughout the city.”

“But there’s no gang, no leader?”

Her brow furrowed. “No, I don’t think so, if that’s what you’re worried about. Does that mean you’re considering coming?” she asked, eager. “Oh, I completely forgot to ask your name! I’m Twiggy, by the way.”

Her name? She tilted her head, considering. Who was she now? To Smokeheart and Featherflight, she had simply been Mom. To the kittypets and loners they had crossed in their paths, she had been Wild, and in the city before then, she had been Rags. What name did she go by now?

“I’m Wildstep.” She surprised herself by offering her full name.

Twiggy examined her thoughtfully. Wildstep braced herself for a scathing comment about how strange her name was, but instead the molly nodded. “Wildstep, huh? That’s a pretty name. I think it suits you.”

She stood up and motioned for the molly to lead the way. “Sure, I’ll come check it out,” Wildstep allowed. “I appreciate the offer. It’s always nice to have a friend to talk to, after all.”

“That’s great! You’ll love it here. The twolegs are really nice, and sometimes they even put out food on the street for the cats who don’t have housefolk! The ocean is amazing, as I’m sure you know, and we have—”

“Do you have pointed twoleg dens?” Wildstep asked, suddenly eager.

Twiggy tilted her head. “I’m not sure.”

“They gather inside every seven days to sing,” she added.

“Oh.” She brightened. “Sure! We have one of those. Why?”

“I was just checking, that’s all,” Wildstep meowed, relaxing again.

“That’s fine. You wandering cats sometimes have silly requirements about what places are acceptable to stop in.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “You are a wanderer, aren’t you?”

Wildstep followed the molly, her tail flicking side to side. “I wasn’t, for a long time. Then I was. But now I’m not sure anymore.”

“Does that mean you’ll be staying for a while?”

Wildstep looked at the molly, a stranger to her but still eager to welcome her. She took in the ocean, beating its steady rhythm, and the wide, open sky, under which she could exist as a free cat, not attached to any group or label. She could simply be.

“Yes, I think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we've come to the end of our story! I hope everyone who's gotten this far has enjoyed! I plan to post an allegiances sometime later tonight, so keep your peepers peeled, but the story itself has come to an end.
> 
> Some miscellaneous things I've enjoyed about this story: getting to choose lyrics for each chapter (Huge shout out to Mantaraybryn, as their songs really inspired the shape and flow of this story. The header song for this chapter, Tropics, gave me the image of Wildstep playing in the waves, which lead to the eventual creation of this story!); giving Wildstep, an important but little-mentioned character in Moth Rising, an actual personality; fleshing out Smokeheart and Featherflight's relationship - I always knew they were smitten with each other, but it was really fun to realize just how much they adore each other; beach cats and rave cats and church cats (oh my!); all of the other amazing characters we got the privilege of meeting! I had so many more ideas for places the cats could travel, and I really had to pare it down, but I hope you all enjoyed what I've shared. 
> 
> And of course, thank you to all my readers, whether you were an active commentator or a silenter follower. You are all appreciated! Thanks so much for following me on this journey!


	9. allegiances (bonus)

> See where I live, they think us poor
> 
> But we're rich in ways that they ignore
> 
> This beautiful island gives me more and more
> 
> I want to go home to be with the shore
> 
> -Stand Tall the Four of Us, Mantaraybryn

* * *

All cats within their group are listed in order of appearance. I've only included cats that have been given names.

**WANDERERS**

**Wildstep aka Wild aka Rags aka Mom** \- spiky-furred ginger molly with white belly, muzzle, and paws; green eyes; ex-ShadowClan cat.

 **Smokeheart aka Moe** \- fluffy, long-furred silver tabby tom with large, soft paws and round light yellow eyes; ex-ShadowClan cat.

 **Featherflight aka Fey** \- pale tom with pale orange legs, tail, and face, with gray eyes; ex-WindClan cat and Smokeheart’s mate.

**KITTYPETS**

**Maudlin** – nonbinary tortoiseshell cat with a half-white-half-ginger face and brown spots across their face and down their back; green eyes.

 **Chomper** \- blue-gray kittypet tom, lives in the city.

 **Franky** \- young tom that lives nearby Chomper, lives in the city.

 **Mama** \- cranky old brown tabby molly that lives near Maudlin; used to be a wanderer.

 **Twiggy** \- dilute tortoiseshell molly with a half white-half ginger face, lives in the small town by the beach.

 **Mitzi** \- Twiggy's friend, lives in the small town by the beach.

**LONERS AND ROGUES**

**Angelou** \- aged gray tom with black spots on back and dark gray legs, white belly and most of face with almost blind blue eyes; barn cat.

 **Alexandria** \- Angelou’s daughter and Rosie and Francis' mate.

 **Rosie** – Alexandria and Francis’ mate.

 **Francis** \- Alexandria and Rosie’s mate.

 **Louis** \- ginger-and-white tom; Alexandria, Rosie, and Francis’ kit, named after his grandfather Angelou.

 **Birch** \- black-and-white molly with spotted rump and tail; lives in the city.

 **Toaster** \- black tom with scraggly fur; lives in the city.

 **Isabelle** – molly; lives in the city.

 **Zucchini** \- old mate of Mama's.

**GANGS**

**Blue** \- gang leader of section.

 **Gear** \- dark brown tabby tom; part of Blue’s gang.

 **Clank** \- gray-and-white tom; part of Blue’s gang.

 **Cheddar** \- dilute tortoiseshell molly with one of her ear tips sliced off; part of Blue's gang.

 **Barcode** \- gang leader of section.

 **Bean** – molly; part of Barcode’s gang.

 **Pecan** \- gang leader of section; holds the section that Starlight and her band plays on.

**GUARDIAN CATS**

**Chubby** – deaf, round, stout blue molly with a flat face and orange eyes; guardian cat.

 **Tigger** – tabby tom that walks with a limp; guardian cat.

 **Hope** \- molly; guardian cat.

 **Hobie** \- tom with a degenerative mental illness; permanent guardian cat patient.

**RAVE CATS**

**Terry** \- gray thickset tabby molly; runs one of the most popular rooftop raves in the city.

 **Bigwumps** \- large, well-built ginger-and-white tom with a bushy, dark gray tail and one ear tip cut off; guard for Terry’s roof raves.

 **Butterbean** \- large tabby molly; guard for Terry’s roof rave.

 **Starlight** \- slender, pretty black molly with white spots flecking her body that gather on her face to give her a completely white muzzle, and silvery eyes; singer for one of the most popular bands in the city.

 **Minnie** – beater in Starlight’s band.

 **Tybalt** – plucker in Starlight’s band.

 **Theodosia** – scratcher in Starlight’s band.

**CLAN CATS**

**Ratpelt** \- ShadowClan tom; Wildstep's ex-mate and father of Smokeheart; was not referred to by name in-story.

 **Beechtail** \- ShadowClan molly; her time in the nursery overlapped with Wildstep's.

 **Troutpath** \- ShadowClan tom; Beechtail's son, Beelight and Ferntooth's mate.

 **Specklefur** \- ShadowClan tom, referred to only as Specklepaw in-story; Beechtail's son.

 **Pricklepaw** \- ShadowClan molly; Beechtail's son. 

**Mothfall** \- ShadowClan molly; Wildstep's daughter and Smokeheart's sister.

 **Ferntooth** \- ShadowClan molly; Wildstep's daughter and Smokeheart's sister.

 **Beelight** \- ShadowClan molly; Ferntooth and Troutpath's mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this is a comprehensive list of every named cat from this story! I tried to write down names as I went, but please let me know if you can think of anyone I've left out; sometimes in going back and revising I forgot to add a cat or change a name.
> 
> Now the story can officially come to a close! If you read all the way to the end, thank you! As a special treat, here is a playlist I made of all of the songs used in this story: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZcohX6oXVXk89TPZB6VmQurHuPXn6xrJ


End file.
